


No Heroes, No Saints

by saintwrites



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, Heathers (1988), Heathers AU - Fandom, Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Frerard, Heathers - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-12 08:38:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3350363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintwrites/pseuds/saintwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Holy shit, I just killed my best friend." </p><p>"And your worst enemy."</p><p>"Same difference." </p><p>Tired of being the weird kid, constantly picked on and beaten up at school, Frank took the first opportunity he could get to join up with the most popular clique at Westerberg High. He learns though that it comes with a price when the bullied turns into the reluctant bully. Frank wants out. But once you're in, you're in for good. Unless he wants his last two years of high school to be a living hell. In all the drama and backstabbing Frank believes he's found a silver lining in the strange new kid, Gerard. However he starts to notice that Gerard's ideas of "pranks" against the popular kids in school are becoming increasingly sinister and far too deadly. Frank has to decide if Gerard really is the anti-hero with a troubled past or just another lunatic with a fatal lust for revenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Concept of Hell

**October 23rd**  

_High school blows. I don’t think that’s fucking news to anyone but it sucks just enough that it needs to be repeated. Usually on a daily basis. And when you’re stuck going to the same place for four years straight, five days out of the week, a place that pretty much drains the very life out of you, you’d do whatever it takes to make it a little less shitty right? I mean high schools all about surviving until you can get out and maybe move away or change your name or whatever. If you’re not trying to survive you’re better off dead- or getting your head shoved in a toilet every morning before homeroom. Kinda feels like the same thing. So listen when Pete fucking Wentz, King of Westerberg High, offers to give you a “god damn Cinderella story” (his words, not mine) you take it. You take it and you don’t look back._

Frank sat underneath a tree scratching his pen across the page of his journal, eyes cast down. He had his back pressed against the trunk and knees drawn up to use as a surface to write on. He wasn’t paying attention to much of anything when suddenly two shadows cast over him. He tilted his head up, eyeing the culprits.

Brendon Urie and Patrick Stump. Pete’s sidekicks, worker bees, “best friends.” Whatever you wanted to call them.

“Come on, Iero.” Brendon said, nodding his head towards the school. “Pete wants to see you before class starts.”

Frank rolled his eyes. “Yeah okay, gimme a sec.” He looked back down, writing out another sentence and then slowly began to close the journal. Frank took his time picking up the things around him while Brendon tapped his foot in an erratic, impatient manner and Patrick stayed quite, slightly fidgeting at his side.

“Iero!” Brendon snapped. “Haul your ass up and let's go.” Frank scowled but on the inside was practically glowing. He loved the idea of making Pete wait.

“What’s your damage, Brendon?” Frank shot back with a glare as he stood up, dusting off his jeans and slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“Bells in ten minutes and we don’t have all fucking morning to wait around for you to finish writing in your _diary_.” Brendon said the word “diary” in a high pitched, mocking tone before turning to look at Patrick. “Right?” He asked, more or less demanded.

Patrick nodded in agreement. See Patrick was easy like that. The yes man of the group. Probably why Pete liked to keep him around. That and his dad owned most of the car dealerships in this town and the next one over. Turns out as long as you’re stinking rich being shy and twitchy doesn’t matter too much to popular guys like Pete.

“Yeah, he really wanted to see you.” Patrick mumbled.

Frank scoffed but followed behind the pair as the three of them made their way into the high school. This time last year Frank would have probably been walking the halls alone, avoiding eye contact with everyone, keeping his head bent and books pressed tightly to his chest. Now he stared down anyone they passed by with a painted smirk on his face. That’s what hanging out with Pete fucking Wentz did to you. You were untouchable and the whole school knew it.

They walked through the halls passing by small groups of cliques and endless rows of lockers until Brendon stopped in front of the door leading into the chemistry lab. He took a step back and looked to Frank with a brow raised. Frank sighed and pushed the door open. Brendon never did anything himself.

“Fina-fucking-lly” Pete called the moment the door opened and Frank stuck his head in. The chemistry lab was empty. Save for the king himself perched on one of the stools. He swiveled back in forth, fingers tapping against his knee. Pete was never one to sit still, always had to be on the move. Sitting and waiting for the three of them must have practically killed him. Frank smiled.

“Hey, Pete.” Frank said with a nod as Brendon and Patrick filed in behind him. “What’s-”

Before he could even finish however, Pete cut him off, raising his hand to silence him. Frank crossed his arms over his chest, willing himself not to mutter or scowl. He knew he could pull that shit in front of Brendon and Patrick but he had to be on his “best behavior” around Pete. See Frank being welcomed into their group was sort of a trial run at the moment. And Frank really didn’t want to screw this up. If he did it would be back to eating lunch at the loser’s table and getting stuffed into a locker by the jocks almost every day.

No, Frank finally had an opportunity to make high school less of a living hell. And considering it was only the start of his junior year he figured it’d be worth it to make these next two years a breeze. Sure he had to give up his friends, do some things he wasn’t exactly proud of but Frank was over being “the weird kid”.

Pete reached down and dropped his backpack on the table with a thud. He unzipped it and began shuffling around before pulling out a few different pieces of paper.

“Report card, failed test, permission slip and doctors note.” Pete listed them off as he sat them down in front of Frank before handing him a pen. “First two need to be signed by dad, third mom and fourth my doctor. You can just chicken shit that one for all I care.”

Frank nodded and leaned over setting to work. That was his in with this crowd. He had a knack for being able to forge anyone’s handwriting. He just needed to take a look and he was good to go, storing it away in his memory. Frank always thought it was kind of a useless talent. He himself never needed it but when he saved Pete, Brendon and Patrick from getting detention, one morning before lunch by adding their names onto his own hall pass (in perfect replication of their teacher’s handwriting) it proved to be more useful than he originally thought.

Sure they only kept him around because of his strange little ability but Frank wasn’t about to complain. Ever since he started hanging out with them people at school treated him differently. Said “hi” to him in the morning, saved spots for him in the lunch line and even offered to let him cheat off their homework. Not that Frank needed it. He wasn’t exactly a certified genius but his IQ was high enough to let him to skip a few grades when he was younger.

His parents decided against it though afraid that he’d get bullied. How ironic.

“Here.” Frank said, handing over the slips of paper.

Pete swiped them from his grasp with a smirk on his face. “Thanks! See you morons at lunch.” He hopped off the table giving Patrick a light smack on the back of his head before throwing open the door and heading out into the halls. The bell overhead chimed signaling the start of class. Frank sighed.

 

* * *

 

“Frank!” He heard his name being called as soon as left the lunch line, tray in hand. Frank looked up to see Patrick standing and waving him over to their usual table. Brendon and Pete were already seated. He walked over to them, passing by the jocks table who greeted him with a nod. Frank waved back. Sure school had been in session for a couple months since Pete had swept him into his group, but it was all still surreal to Frank. The “cool kids” saying hello instead of tripping him or smacking the lunch tray out of his hands. He still wasn’t completely used to it, waiting for them to turn on any second.

“What’s so funny?” Frank asked as he sat down. Brendon and Pete were leaning towards each other across the table trying to stifle their own laughs. He looked to Patrick who just sort of shrugged but had the ghost of a grin on his face as well.

“I need you to write something for me.” Pete finally said, managing to compose himself as he turned towards Frank.

“What? Another letter to get out of sex ed? Fuck, Wentz if anyone needs that it’s you.” Frank smarted off with a smile.

Pete rolled his eyes. “I’m well educated in that subject, shit-for-brains. No I had something else in mind.” He let his gaze trail across the lunchroom until it landed on a certain someone. Frank felt his heart sink. Ray Toro.

He and Ray used to be best friends. That is until Pete came riding in on his daddy’s porsche, giving him a fairy tale worthy makeover a few weeks into the school year. Part of the deal was ditching Ray along with his other friends. Frank regretted it, sure. But hey survival of the fittest right?

“Ray?” He questioned as Pete turned back to him. “Come on, Pete. I don’t have anything against Ray.”

“You don’t have anything for him either.” Pete snapped back, as he narrowed his eyes at him. Frank held the gaze for a minute before caving with a quiet sigh. Pete grinned in triumph. “Listen, what I have in mind will give him jackoff material for a month at least.”

“I’ll think about it.” Frank muttered.

“You’re not here to think, _Frankie_.” God he hated when he called him that. “Here. Brendon’s having a kegger this weekend while his parents are gone. Everybody knows Ray’s had a boner for Ashley Barrett since he discovered what boners were. So let’s say she invites him with a little love note.” Pete ripped out a blank piece of paper from his notebook waving it in front of Frank’s face. He stared at it unsure.

Brendon groaned loudly and slammed his hands on the table. “You want this to be your last invite to my parties, Iero? Just _do it_.”

“I don’t-” Frank hesitated looking from the piece of paper to Ray and back. “I don’t know, man. It just seems kinda harsh.” Maybe he and Ray hadn’t talked in months, Ray finally getting the hint after Frank straight up ignored him every time he tried to talk. But Frank still considered them friends. Sort of. Ray had after all been his best friend since second grade. He felt his insides twist in knots. Maybe this wasn’t worth it after all.

“It’s just a joke.” Patrick spoke up, quietly. He looked to Frank and shrugged his shoulders. Frank ran a hand through his hair, chewing on his lower lip. Finally he nodded.

“Yeah, okay.” He grabbed the paper and motioned at Brendon with his fingers who handed him a pen. Frank bent over then looked up to Pete who was staring down at him with a satisfied smile. No matter what the king always seemed to get his way. It was then and there that Frank decided he hated and loved Pete fucking Wentz. The kid was one mythic bastard.

Pete began as he leaned back in his seat. “Dear Ray,”

Frank listened, writing down everything Pete said. Scribbling lies of secret crushes and unrequited love. Stolen glances Ray “never noticed” and some Shakespeare thrown in there for good measure. By the time he signed it “xoxo Ashley” he felt sick to his stomach.

“Lemme see.” Pete demanded, snatching the note out of Frank’s hands. His eyes moved across the words, grin growing wider with each line he read. “Perfect.” He handed it to Brendon who looked over it as well. Patrick glanced down at the paper brows raised and seemed to give some kind of approving nod. 

The four of them looked over to where Ray was seated, laughing and talking with the rest of Frank’s old friends at their lunch table. Frank remembered being over there. This was usually the time when they’d either be getting spitballs launched at them or someone “accidentally” spilling drinks all over the table. Maybe he didn’t miss it that much. Suddenly though Ray stood up from the table, lunch tray in hand, headed towards the trash cans.

Brendon lept up and sauntered over in that direction as well. He moved carefully behind Ray, remaining unnoticed and slipped the note discreetly onto his tray. Brendon turned quickly, smug look on his face as he made his way back over towards Frank and the rest of them. There. The damage was done and there was no going back now. He hoped that maybe, just maybe, Ray would realize it was all one big stupid prank.

Just as his old friend was about to dump the tray he looked down, spotting the folded piece of paper. _Shit_. Brendon, Pete and Patrick all looked at each other giggling like idiot kids. Ray dumped the tray and carefully began unfolding the note. A look of confusion struck him before his face slowly began to tinge with pink. Frank could see the blush all the way from across the cafeteria. Ray looked up, glancing around the room until he spotted Ashley Barrett sitting with her friends.

Ashley Barrett was co-captain for the cheer squad, had beyond killer good looks and what some would refer to as a “complete and total air head.” She wasn’t always that way though. In fact when they were still in elementary school she was friends with Frank and Ray. But then of course junior high came along and she got her braces off and grew two cup sizes over the summer. Turns out perfect teeth and huge tits declared you worthy of the cool kids. Days spent playing with Frank and Ray on the jungle gym were long forgotten in favor of getting high with the quarterback under the bleachers.

Like a bad movie in slow motion Ray began walking towards her table. Brendon and Pete were clutching onto each sputtering out short laughs as they watched, eyes wide. _Shit, shit, shit. Come on Ray don’t._

Frank really wished he would suddenly develop telepathic powers or that the earth would open up and swallow everyone whole. Honestly either one would be a good option right about now. Anything to avoid the train wreck that was surely about to happen.

Ray stopped in front of the table where Ashley was sitting on one of the ends. He stood nervously for a moment before tapping her on the shoulder. The cheerleader turned and looked up at him, cocking a brow. Ray began speaking, motioning at the note. His cheeks seemed to grow redder as the seconds ticked by, hands moving as he talked. Finally he stopped, a shy smile on his face as Ashley stared on, expression blank.

“Are you _fucking serious?_ ”

Oh god.

Ashley looked horrified as her entire table erupted into laughter, her shrill voice drawing in the attention of everyone in the cafeteria. She stood up, hands on her hips as she glared up at Ray whose face was mimicking the color of bright tomatoes.

“Why the ever loving _fuck_ would I want to hang out with a _freak of nature_ like you.” She snapped, flipping her too blonde to be natural hair over her shoulder. Ray appeared to be at a loss for words as the entire room filled with laughter from the watching crowd of students. He turned dropping the note and ran out the door, the rest of his table following after him.

Frank sighed for what felt like the millionth time that day as Pete, Patrick and Brendon burst into hysterics, pounding their fists on the table and howling with laughter. Frank looked around. All eyes were either on Ray escaping the cafeteria or Ashley who was seated again, her friends laughing at her apparent misery. All eyes except for one pair. That was the first time Frank spotted him.

A guy sat at the back corner table all alone. He leaned up against the chair, arms crossed over his chest. Looking perfectly bored with the whole situation. He was dressed in all black, dark hair hanging just above his eyes. His eyes which weren’t focused on the double swinging doors Ray had just left through or the table of tittering cheerleaders. They were focused on Frank. Frank held the gaze for a moment then glanced behind him just to be sure. Nope, he was definitely staring directly at him. Frank felt a chill shoot through his spine, a mixture of fear and curiosity that he couldn’t quite place.

The bell chimed overhead and Frank turned to to grab his bag and shove the rest of his books away. When he stood up and looked back towards where the guy had been sitting he was already gone. Frank glanced around the entire cafeteria but in the sea of students rushing to get to their next class he couldn’t find him. He shifted his backpack on his shoulders before turning and following behind Brendon, waving goodbye to Pete and Patrick. Frank had English with Brendon next so the two headed off in the opposite direction.

“Nicely done, Iero.” Brendon said with a laugh as he slung his arm around Frank’s next. Like the two had been best friends all their lives or something. “Did you see Toro? I think he started crying. What a pussy.”

“Yeah. Hilarious.” Frank deadpanned back. Brendon dropped his arm and started prattling on about Ray and “what a loser the kid was”. Frank was only half listening as they navigated the halls. His thoughts returned to the boy in the cafeteria. The school wasn’t that big. Small enough where everyone mostly knew everyone. And Frank was absolutely positive he’d never seen him around before. He felt like he’d remember a face like his, especially those eyes.   
  
“Hey, Brendon.” Frank interrupted Brendon’s stream of non stop talking. “Did anyone new transfer to Westerberg recently?” Brendon Urie might have been a jackass with a shitty sense of humor but the truth was he knew everything about everyone and anything that was going on with the school. He used the fact that he was head of the Yearbook committee to get into everybody’s business.   
  
“Uh this pretty hott girl transferred over from North this year, Kait Kingston or something.” He scrunched his brows, thinking. “And some weird kid just started yesterday. Gerard Way. Out of state from what I’ve heard.”   
  
Gerard Way. That had to be him then. The mysterious “weird kid” who had a bit of a creepy James Dean-esque vibe going on. Frank let the name roll around in his mind. _Gerard Way, Gerard Way, Gerard Way._  
  
“Why?” Brendon asked, looking over at Frank. Who in turn just shrugged his shoulders.   
  
“Just wondering.”   
  
Brendon gave him a look but for once seemed to let this go. They were right outside their classroom door anyway. Frank took his seat near the back dropping down and immediately pulled out his journal as their teacher started the lecture. He wasn’t sure what he was writing. Wanted to write. He bent over and scribbled a few words onto the next blank sheet, the first thing that came to mind.   
  
**October 23rd**   
  
_I don’t know what it is about this guy but I’ll be damned if I don’t find out._ **  
**


	2. Let Them Drive Us Underground

**October 24th**   
  
_Can’t sleep. I keep thinking about Ray. That look on his face fucking killed me. I knew Ashley had turned into kind of a bitch over the years but Christ you’d think he asked her to blow him behind the gym or something. Not that Ray would ever do that. Too good of a guy. I thought hanging out with Pete and the rest of them would just mean getting out of wedgies before lunch and hits to the balls after 6th period. No more “kick me” signs taped to the back of my jacket or cleaning off the word “freak” from my locker. I didn’t think I’d have to be such a dick. Pete fucking Wentz is cold, sure. But damn I never realized just how much._  

Button up shirt with a blazer placed over, rolled to the sleeves. Pants fitted but not too tight. Hair slicked away from his face, perfectly disheveled. Frank hardly recognized himself when he looked in the mirror. Most mornings he was constantly doing a double take before he left for school. He missed the days when he could roll out of bed, throw on whatever shirt smelled the cleanest and head out the door. That wardrobe apparently didn’t make the cut when he went from nobody to somebody.   
  
Frank ran a hand through his hair again, flicking a strand away from his eyes. A car horn blared for the second time, echoing shrilly through the house. He flinched before huffing and leaning down to sling his bookbag over his shoulder.   
  
“Fucking hell, I’m coming.” Frank growled to himself as he trudged down the stairs and out the front door. He was assaulted by the shriek of the horn and sunlight as soon as he stepped outside. Frank frowned, lifting his hand to shield his eyes.   
  
Pete was sitting in his porsche, the top down, hand slamming on the car horn probably disrupting the entire neighborhood. Brendon on the other hand was standing up, leaning over the windshield and beating rhythmically on the glass, shit-eating grin across his face. They both looked perfect and chaotic. Frank hated them a little bit.   
  
“You just gonna stand there all day like a jackass or are you gonna catch the bus with all the kindergartners?” Pete called, finally letting up on the horn.   
  
Frank didn’t answer but instead walked towards the car and hopped over the side, into the backseat. “Where’s Patrick?” He asked, noticing the absence of their other friend. The four of them all usually got rides from Pete in the morning. Unless of course Pete decided to skip, which he was known to do. In which case Patrick would volunteer to pick the rest of them up. Which Frank was grateful for. As a junior, riding the bus was the last thing he wanted to do.  
  
Brendon and Pete looked at each other smirking.  “Took Olivia Adams to school this morning.” Brendon said as Pete started driving off down Frank’s street. He was clearly ignoring the “25 mile per hour” sign but Frank kept his mouth shut. Like usual. Brendon turned around in his seat, arms hanging over the back. “Pete set it up. Said Patrick had to get laid before my party this weekend or he was gonna put an ad out for him in the paper.”  
  
Brendon looked down to Pete and the two snickered to themselves as Frank shook his head. Good for Patrick for getting out there, he guessed. But that was so typical of Pete. Had to work his way in there and take control of every situation. Frank leaned back in the seat, letting the wind rip through his hair that he had spent far too long on. He listened to Brendon and Pete talk on and on about Olivia and some of the other girls in their school. Going into explicit detail about the “exact shape of their massive tits”. Frank couldn’t care less but he threw in a laugh or too just to make it seem like he was listening. That's how most of their conversations went. It was oddly draining.   
  
When they pulled into the school parking lot Frank shoved open the door as soon as Pete turned off the car, pulling the straps of his backpack across his shoulders. He walked up to the building next to Pete and Brendon, hanging just a step behind. Their discussion had moved on to Brendon’s kegger. It was apparently leading up to be the party of the year, with nearly the entire school invited. Plus some friends Pete had that were already in college. That was a big deal or something by the way Pete and Brendon were going on about it.   
  
Suddenly Frank was very aware that someone was staring. Not in the way that people usually did when they walked in to school. All star struck and open mouthed like the fucking pope decided to show up. No it was the kind that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on edge and his palms turn cold. Frank looked around the campus, trying to spot the source, when he finally saw him.  
  
Gerard Way. At least he was pretty sure that’s what his name was. It’s what Brendon had said after all and that kid was rarely wrong. Gerard was seated on one of the picnic tables, staring at Frank. Not just looking or casually glancing up but staring at him. Hard. He appeared how he did yesterday. All shrouded in black clothes, a leather jacket hugging his arms and torso. His hair was messy, hitting just below his brows and shadowing his eyes. He had a cigarette caught between two fingers as he lifted up the stick to take a hit.   
  
He didn’t smile. Didn’t wave or shy his gaze away, just kept staring at Frank. Like he didn’t even care that he got caught looking. Frank felt the color rush to his face as the two locked eyes. He couldn't help but stare back, knowing the expression on his face was probably completely stupid, all wide eyed and caught off guard.  
  
“If I didn’t know any better,” Frank jumped as he felt Pete press against him, breath hot on his ear. “I’d say you’re jonesing pretty hard for Alice Cooper over there.” Frank stumbled away giving Pete a shove.   
  
“Fuck off, dude.” He shot back, a strained smile on his lips. “Kid was staring at me. Freaked me out is all.”   
  
Pete’s teasing smirk faded and he looked at Frank in the way that made his legs start to shake and forehead prickle with sweat. That was the scary thing about Pete fucking Wentz. Behind all those snarky words and Cheshire white smiles he was smart, terrifyingly smart. Not in the way Frank was with his books and test scores but in a way where Pete could just read people. Knew about you before you could even stutter out your name. And he could definitely, _definitely_ tell if you were trying to hide something.   
  
The look dropped, replaced with his usual mask of a grin. “Yeah, okay.” He peered over to where Gerard was, no longer staring but was bent over the table. His hands were scrawling loosely and slowly across the page of what seemed to be a sketch book. Frank couldn't really tell from where he was at. “Want me to go tell him exactly where he can shove that cigarette?”   
  
“No. No, it’s cool.” Frank shook his head. “Don’t waste your time. I’m sure someone will rat him out for having tobacco on campus anyway.” Pete just nodded and the three of them continued on, heading towards the double doors of the school entrance. Frank turned, glancing over his shoulder. Gerard had stopped sketching and had gone back to staring. They looked at each other for a second before a slight smirk slipped on to Gerard’s face. Frank could have sworn his heart stopped.   
  


* * *

  
  
The rest of the morning passed by far too slowly for Frank’s liking. He talked to Patrick in their shared math class about taking Olivia to school. Patrick tried to seem enthusiastic about it but for the most part just shifted awkwardly in his seat. Frank never understood why Patrick hung around with Pete and the rest of them. He was quiet, kind even when he was away from the group. But the moment he started hanging around the king and his faithful informant, Patrick reverted to nothing more than another lackey of Westerberg’s royalty.   
  
Pete had that effect on people. Brought out the worst in them. Clearly Frank alone was proof of that. Not that he liked admitting it.  
  
Finally lunch time rolled around and Frank made his way to the cafeteria. When he got there, glancing across the room, he noticed none of his other friends had made it yet. Probably still caught up in their last classes. He was about to step in line when he spotted Ray. He was hunched over, nose in a book, sitting alone at his usual table. Ray looked as though he was trying to make himself as small and unnoticeable as possible. Frank knew that routine all too well. He felt his stomach twist and before he could talk himself out of it began walking towards Ray.  
  
“Hey,” he greeted, somewhat quietly as he stood behind Ray. The other boy swiveled around in his chair and looked up to Frank. He seemed almost shocked for a moment before his expression dropped into an almost scowl.   
  
“What do you want?” Ray asked, already annoyed.   
  
Frank suddenly felt nervous. He wasn’t even sure why. This was Ray after all. The two had been friends for years. Maybe because he was the reason Ray was humiliated yesterday in front of the entire school. He tried not to dwell on that. “I just wanted to say, ya know, sorry about what happened yesterday. It-”   
  
“Why do you even care?” Ray snapped, shutting his book and standing up. “I’m sure you and your best friend Pete got a real kick out of it.”   
  
“Ray I-” Frank pleaded but was cut off when Ray grabbed his backpack and shoved past him.   
  
“Save it, Frank.”   
  
Frank stood there, watching him push through the rest of the crowd. He sighed audibly, running his hand through his hair and shaking his head. At least Ray didn’t know Frank was the reason he had the whole current student body laughing at him. But that thought didn’t really make him feel any better.   
  
“If you’re losing your soul and you know it, then you’ve still got a soul left to lose.”   
  
Frank whipped around at the sound of the voice only to nearly run right into Gerard. He stumbled back a step and looked up at him. Gerard had the same smirk on his face that he had earlier that morning and now that Frank was closer he could see a certain spark in his dark eyes, usually hidden by the shadow of his hair. He smelled of smoke and nothing else. The aroma invading every bit of Frank’s personal space. Frank didn’t even know what to say, it was almost surreal.   
  
“What?” He finally managed to spit out. _Incredibly intelligent, nicely done_. Gerard however just lifted his shoulders in a shrug and turned to move past him. But Frank followed after. “Hey, yeah, don’t just quote Bukowski at me and walk away, excuse me?”   
  
Gerard turned back around, but didn’t say anything. God he was creepy. Attractive in that post modern Goth sort of way. But definitely creepy.   
  
“You’re, uhm, you’re Gerard right?” Damn Iero can’t get any smoother than that.   
  
“Could be.” He said, tilting his head some to the side. Frank crossed his arms over his chest, brow raised. Gerard rolled his eyes but the smile stayed. “Yeah I’m Gerard Way. And you must be the infamous Frank Iero.”  
  
So he knew who he was then. Frank wasn’t too sure if he liked that. “Think you’ve got the infamous part wrong. That’s all Pete Wentz.” It was strange being on this side of things. Usually it was Frank who knew everyone’s name and everyone else not even knowing he existed. Or if they did know he existed they weren’t exactly _nice_ about it.   
  
Gerard seemed to study him for a moment. “If you say so.” He finally mused. Neither one of them said anything for a bit, Frank growing more and more uncomfortable as the seconds ticked by.   
  
“So what was with all that throwing quotes at me and shit?” Frank finally asked.   
  
“I know what you did to that Ray Toro kid.” Gerard said simply, answering his question but at the same time avoiding it completely. Frank’s initial look of confusion turned to one of anger as he scowled, eyes narrowed. He was so blunt. Something Frank wasn't used to except for when it came to Pete or Brendon. But they were always much nastier when it came to being open and honest.  
  
“Yeah? So what you planning on tell him or something?” He spat back at him.  
  
“Nope. No point.” Gerard said scratching at the side of his face and Frank felt himself grow irritated. “You like your friends, Frank?”   
  
“Obviously.” He answered far too quickly. “I mean I wouldn’t hang out with them if I didn’t, right?” He wasn’t sure if he was asking Gerard that or asking himself. Gerard didn’t respond either way when another voice interjected into their conversation.   
  
“Sup, Frank.”  
  
Frank turned to see Joe Trohman and Andy Hurley standing behind him. The star quarterback and the star running back of their schools football team. At least that’s what he’d heard a million times over since his sophomore year of high school. Frank didn’t really keep up with sports. They were both seniors, just a year ahead of Frank.  
  
Two years ago Joe and Andy were slamming him into halls and pummeling him in the parking lot. Now they greeted him like long time friends. Pete truly did work in mysterious ways. Like some kind of mythic force. Or Satan.  
  
Andy was all brawn and very, very little brains. Joe on the other hand was the smartest guy on the football team. Which was basically like being the tallest hobbit in the Shire.   
  
“Hey guys.” Frank said a bit awkwardly, “what’s-”   
  
“This Charles Manson wannabe bothering you or something?” Joe interrupted, nodding his head at Gerard, who only cocked a brow in response, mouth set in a thin but slightly amused line.  
  
“No, no we were ju-” but again he was cut off. What the fuck was the point of even asking him anything if no one was going to let him talk.   
  
“Where’d you come from sweetcheeks.” Andy asked, poking Gerard in the chest. “Circus make a pit stop in town?”   
  
Joe laughed. “Yeah last I checked our school had a no freak show policy in the cafeteria.” Andy and Joe looked at each other grinning then turned back to Gerard. Frank felt his nerves start to kick in not liking the fact that he was the only thing standing between them. Carefully he took a short step back out of the way.   
  
For a split second Gerard had an expression on his face that sent the color draining from Frank’s cheeks but as quick as it appeared it was gone, replaced instead by a slight smile. “Funny because when I got here they told me this school had a no assholes policy in the cafeteria,” he paused, “yet here you are.” Gerard motioned at the two jocks before dropping his hands to his sides.   
  
Andy and Joe were quiet letting the remark sink in. “Hold his arms.” Joe snapped coldly as Andu in turn lunged forward. But Gerard was quick, dodging out of the way and turning to land a kick right at Andy’s groin who in turn doubled over onto the ground, moaning in pain.  
  
“Oh fuck.” Frank muttered as he shot back a few more steps, bumping into a table behind him. He turned, noticing they were already starting to draw attention. Fan-fucking tastic. Gerard landed another kick this time right in Andy’s ribs. For such a lanky kid he was surprisingly quick. And strong. Joe swung and Gerard, again, moved out of the way just in time. Joe stumbled a bit before turning. Right as he did Gerard latched onto his head, fingers digging into his temple. Before Joe could squirm away Gerard slammed their foreheads together, the noise as they clashed dull and sickening.   
  
He did it again, once, twice and a third time before letting Joe go and shoving him back. The football player staggered before falling to the ground clutching his temple and groaning loudly with pain. That was about the time Andy managed to get back up on his feet. He grabbed onto Gerard who quickly whipped around slamming his fist into his nose. Blood spurting everywhere, spilling down Andy’s face and coating Gerard’s knuckles.   
  
Andy shot backwards grasping at his face and crying out. Gerard hardly flinched or seemed even bothered by the fact he just busted someone's nose. Same easy smile on his face. Frank looked around. At this point the entire cafeteria was watching, yelling, shouting, cheering the three boys on. Christ it was like they were at some kind of zoo or something.   
  
Andy had just managed to blindly grab onto Gerard when suddenly a whistle broke through the noise, silencing the crowd. One of the coaches no doubt. That was definitely a sign it was time to go.   
  
“Hey!” He heard a voice call. Frank saw a teacher trying to push through the students and to the circle where Gerard and the other two boys were at. Frank acted quickly.   
  
“Come on.” He moved, latching on to Gerard’s arm and tugging him through the crowd. Nobody tried to stop them as they ran, going unnoticed by the teacher and coach who had managed to break through. “This way, this way.” Frank said as he shoved open the back door that led into an empty hallway.  
  
He and Gerard didn’t slow as they ran through the halls. Frank doubted anyone was coming after them but better safe than sorry. Getting detention wasn’t exactly on his to do list today. He only slowed to turn and push open the exit door and burst outside. The two panted as they stopped, Gerard lacing his fingers together and resting them behind his head, stretching back and Frank practically doubled over acting like he just ran a marathon.   
  
“You didn’t have to do that.” Gerard finally said as he looked down at Frank, still sucking in air. Frank straightened up and wiped his hand across his forehead. Physical activity wasn’t exactly his forte.   
  
“Andy and Joe are pricks.” Frank said with a shrug. “Shouldn’t go picking on new kids.”   
  
“Sure.” Gerard replied back a bit flatly. “So I guess it’s only okay if you’re picking on someone who’s been around for a while then, right?” He asked.   
  
Frank scowled. “That was different.” He expected Gerard to counter the statement. Lay into Frank about what an asshole he was for fucking with Ray. Instead though he didn’t say anything, just continued to stare at Frank with a blank expression, hard to read. Frank in turn wasn’t sure if he liked the way Gerard looked at him. Like he was trying to focus on every little move he made. He shook off the uncomfortable feeling though.    
  
“Well thanks. I think I’m gonna lay low the rest of the day.” Gerard finally spoke and nodded away from the school, out towards the parking lot. “Wanna come with?”   
  
He almost considered it. Considered ditching school for the rest of the afternoon and hanging out with the new found vigilante who just made a mess of the two toughest guys in school. Frank was intrigued to say the least. Instead though he found himself shaking his head. “Nah, I better not.”   
  
Gerard didn’t offer a second time, only ran a hand through his hair before reaching into his jacket to stick a cigarette between his lips. “Suit yourself.” He started walking off, pulling keys out from his back pocket. “Catch ya later, Frank!” Gerard called over his shoulder.   
  
Frank waved his hand once before turning and heading back through the doors. The bell had already rung and students were filing back into the halls for their next class. He knew he had better find Brendon before class or risk getting a million questions thrown his way. A million questions that Frank was absolutely positive he didn’t have the answers too. **  
**


	3. Concrete Refuge

October 26th  
  
 _Fights are for testosterone fueled, meat neck, dumb as a dead cat, juvenile delinquents. They’re stupid and immature. Alright at least that's what I told myself when I never fought back against guys like Finn and Gavin. I don’t like fights. I don’t crowd around like every other asshole in school just to get a look at people pummeling the shit out of each other. But watching Gerard fight? Damn. Why couldn’t he have moved here a year earlier. Hell a month earlier. Maybe I could have found someone who would help me fight back. Give this piece of shit school a real run for its money. Don't even know if Gerard would want to fight for someone like me but a kid can dream, right?_  
  
“So where’d you haul ass to the other day?”   
  
Frank looked up from his textbook, glancing towards Pete. The two had been sitting outside on his back porch for the past hour or so working on an assignment for their history class. Brendon and Patrick had been here studying as well but left just a few minutes ago. Brendon to go get ready for his party that night and Patrick to go pick Olivia up. They were apparently a thing now according to everyone at school.   
  
“What do you mean?” Frank replied back innocently, gaze returning to his book. He knew exactly what Pete was talking about. Two days ago when Frank had decided to play accomplice to Gerard and escape the cafeteria after the fight. The teachers may not have caught him but that of course didn’t stop other people from seeing them leave.   
  
He had been praying to as many gods as he could remember that his absence at lunch that day would magically go unnoticed. Or that somehow, some way, Pete wouldn’t find out it was Frank who had ran off with Gerard. But that was of course asking for too much. Pete knew everything. He was like some kind of freakish omniscient god of the school, with eyes and ears everywhere. Of course someone had told Pete what happened. Frank just didn’t know why he waited until now to bring it up.   
  
Maybe to catch him off guard? He wasn’t sure. The other boy was all about mind games though so it honestly wouldn't surprise him. Frank was probably just being paranoid.   
  
“Don’t play stupid, Frankie.” Pete’s voice was calm, light. But when Frank looked up his gaze practically tore holes through him. “You’re not very good at it.”   
  
Frank could feel the color rush to his face as soon as he met Pete’s eyes. They were cold, the smile curling across his lips a phantom.   
  
“Oh at lunch a couple days ago?” It took everything in his power not to stutter over his own words. _Fuck_. He hated this. Hated that some other kid, hardly a year older than him, could manage to have this much power. Frank could feel the first threat of anger and frustration stirring in the pit of his stomach but he bit it back. “Gavin and Finn were being idiots. Thought I’d get Gerard out of there before he got himself killed or expelled.” Frank averted his eyes with a shrug, looking back down at his book. It was the truth but he knew that sometimes being honest with his group of friends wasn't always a good thing.   
  
“New kid’s got a name now, huh?” Pete asked, the smile stretching. Everything about his tone was plastic and malicious. He leaned forward, head tilted to the side. “So what, you guys best friends? Gonna invite him over for a fuckin’ sleep over. Watch some movies, talk about boys and suck each other off?”   
  
“What the fucks your problem?” Frank shot back his tone sharp, unable to help it. He glared up at Pete who easily held the gaze.   
  
“My problem? My problem is that I take you in like a god damn dirty stray no one wanted.” He closed his book with a resonating snap. _Oh boy, here we go._ “You know what you were before me, Frank? You were another loser getting his ass handed to him by morons like Finn and Gavin. You were nobody. A damn waste of space. Which is kind of hard to be in Sherwood fucking Ohio but you somehow managed it.” He was gaining momentum now and Frank just sat there, taking it. Pete was kind of known for his angry, dramatic speeches. “And I give you the grand fucking opportunity to maybe be somebody for once and you do what with it? Throw it back in my face to hang out with some Misfits reject.”   
  
Frank didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say. Admitting Pete was right was the last thing he wanted coming out of his mouth. But still…  
  
“I’m sorry.” Frank mumbled, looking away as he sat back in his chair, pulling on the sleeves of his jacket. God is this really what he’s been reduced to? Two more years. He had to keep reminding himself of that. Maybe less than that actually. Frank was still a junior and Pete a senior. Meaning in just a year Pete would be gone and who knows, maybe things would actually change around Westerberg once the king was off his throne. Order restored to the land.  
  
Pete sighed. “It’s fine.” He actually looked sympathetic for once and Frank couldn’t help but stare, waiting for the mask to melt. “It’s just- you know, it’s not just your reputation riding on this. It’s mine. Brendon and Patrick’s. Letting you hang out with us was a risk and I thought it was one worth taking.”   
  
Frank couldn’t imagine he could really do much damage to Pete Wentz’s reputation. He was the ruler after all, everyone following after him without a second thought. As it would turn out Frank wasn’t any better.   
  
Two more years.   
  
“I won’t talk to him anymore.” Frank finally said quietly, shifting in his seat. “I haven’t even seen him since that day so…” He ended his sentence with a shrug. And that was true. He hadn’t seen Gerard since the fight in the cafeteria. Turns out when he said he had planned on “laying low” he meant it. The school had talked about the fight for the rest of the day but like most gossip in high school they moved on quickly. Some freshman had apparently gotten duct taped to the wall of the locker room the day after. Naked. A brawl in the cafeteria was old news in comparison to that level of humiliation.   
  
Pete didn’t say anything for a minute before leaning back in his seat. “I’m just looking out for you, Frank.”  
  
“What do you mean?” He asked.   
  
“Guys like Jared-”  
  
“Gerard.”   
  
“Whatever.” Pete snapped. “Guys like him roll into town, start shit, get suspended or kicked out. Do nothing but try to get attention wherever they go, mess up the whole fucking balance of the high school structure, break some hearts and then leave. They’re trouble and quite frankly not worth the time for people like us.” He pointed his finger at Frank, a serious expression across his face.   
  
Frank opened and closed his mouth hoping he didn’t look as bewildered as he felt. Seriously. _Seriously?_ Pete fucking Wentz was the record holding, world champion of starting shit and whoring himself out for attention. His whole _life_ revolved around getting attention. Westerberg High might as well have been Neverland with Pete as god damn Tinkerbell for christs sake. Frank was absolutely, without a doubt, completely positive that Pete would collapse and die the moment people forgot he existed.   
  
“Yeah. You’re right.” Frank said. It hurt to smile but he managed to muster a tight, fake one that hopefully fooled his friend.   
  
Pete nodded, kicking his legs up onto the table between them, landing a foot on Frank’s homework. “Course I am.” He grinned his typical shit-eating grin.   
  
“Hey boys!” Pete and Frank both turned to see his mother heading outside on to the back porch.   
  
“Hi mom.” Frank replied back with a slight wave. Unlike a lot of kids he actually got along pretty well with his parents. Always had a good relationship and they trusted him with just about anything. Perks of being a good kid his entire life.  
  
“Hi Mrs. Iero.” Pete said politely, all syrupy sweet. Frank wanted to hurl.   
  
“Any big plans for tonight?” She asked the two. Frank and Pete looked at each other knowingly. He might have had a decent relationship with his parents (for a teenage boy) but that was mainly because Frank rarely ever did anything. No rebellious phase, no sneaking out or hitting mailboxes with baseball bats. He didn’t exactly want to go ruining that trust now.  
  
“Just the usual,” Frank said drumming his fingers on the table. “Movies, sacrificing virgins to the dark lord and maybe some studying.” He smirked cheekily and his mom rolled his eyes leaning down to ruffle his hair.  
  
“Hilarious.” She deadpanned.   
  
“Actually Frank,” Pete began, his tone still light and sugary. “We better start heading over to Brendon’s. Lovely as always to see you Mrs. Iero.” He stood up and shook her hand before heading out the back door.   
  
“Yeah we gotta motor mom.” Frank stood as well, tucking his textbook under his arm. He went to follow after Pete but his mother grabbed his the sleeve of his hoodie.  
  
“Frank, sweetie.”   
  
“Yeah?” He replied cautiously. She looked relatively concerned. His mom pursed her lips and sighed.  
  
“Just- just be careful tonight okay?” His mom finally said, pulling him in for a hug and planting a kiss on the top of his head. Frank closed his eyes, leaning in to her familiar smell. He wasn’t sure what got her so worried. Maybe that mother’s intuition bullshit was actually true.  
  
“I’m gonna be fine mom. It’s just movies.” He said with a shrug, feeling the lie settling heavy on his tongue. Suddenly he heard Pete’s car horn blasting loudly. Frank had to keep from grumbling as he gave his mom a tight lipped smile and headed inside.    
  


* * *

  
  
Pete swung hazardously into a parking spot right outside a 7/11, hitting the brakes so hard it almost sent Frank flying out of his seat and through the windshield. Thank god for seatbelts. Pete drove like a fucking maniac and despite getting rides to school from him every morning Frank still wasn’t used to it. He undid the buckle and began pushing open the car door.  
  
“Don’t forget the corn nuts.” Pete said, not looking at Frank. He had his head resting in one hand the other tapping out rhythms on the steering wheel. It wasn’t out of a nervous habit or anything else. He literally just never sat still. Ever. Like some kind of vindictive hummingbird.  
  
Frank nodded and started to close the car door when he paused, bending down. “BQ or Plain?”  
  
Pete stopped drumming long enough to send Frank a look that suggested he was a huge god damn idiot. “BQ.” Pete replied back flatly before straightening up in his seat to start tapping out another, faster paced beat. “And hurry up. We’re about to hit past the fashionably late mark.”   
  
“God forbid we do that.” He shot back sarcastically and slammed the door shut before Pete could reply. Muffled yelling came from the car but Frank just ignored it with a bit of a smile and pulled open the door to the gas station, a bell ringing over head. He made a quick beeline for the chips and crouched down, searching for Pete’s desired, can’t-live-without, corn nuts.  
  
Brendon’s party had started about an hour ago. Pete had informed him that only “virgns and wannabes” show up to a party within the first hour. Frank wasn’t really sure where he got that logic from or why it would be such a big deal considering they were Brendon’s best friends but he held his tongue. Typical. Honestly Frank would have rather spent the Saturday night in. Maybe watching some movies, stuffing his face with popcorn and pouring over comic books with Ray. It’s the little things, he’d come to realize, that he missed the most. Being popular felt more like a job than a luxury. Still it was getting him through high school so maybe he shouldn't complain too much.   
  
“Greetings and salutations.”   
  
Frank jumped at the voice, standing up and simultaneously dropping the bags of corn nuts he had clutched in his grasp. He looked up to see Gerard standing there, hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket. “Didn’t mean to scare ya.” He apologized.   
  
“No, no it’s fine. I was kind off in my own world.” Frank shook his head as he bent down, picking up the two bags. Suddenly Gerard was crouched next to him helping him pick them up as he scooped one of the bags into his hand. They both stood up, Frank shifting nervously for a moment before Gerard waved the pack at Frank.   
  
“You want an icee to go with these?”   
  
“I’m good.” Frank said, shaking his head again and taking the bag from Gerard. “But if you’re nice I’ll let you buy me a soda.” He retorted, feeling his stomach flutter nervously. Frank had no idea where that small surge of confidence came from. Maybe hanging around Pete, Brendon and Patrick was starting to rub off. He glanced up to Gerard who seemed surprised as well. Though pleasantly surprised judging by the smile that slid across his lips.   
  
“You can’t come to a 7/11 and not get an icee.” Gerard shook his head as he turned around, heading towards the slushie machine behind them. “Signature dish of the house. That’d be like going to Dairy Queen and not getting ice cream.” He looked over his shoulder with a playfully stern expression. “Did you say cherry or blueberry?”   
  
Frank quirked a brow as he dropped the corn nuts on the counter next to him and crossed his arms over his chest. “I said a soda.” He shot back, unable to help his grin.   
  
Gerard paused, placing back the cup he had grabbed and turning around to face Frank. He grinned lightly and reached up to push away the bangs that had fallen across his eyes. They both seemed to watch each other for a beat before Frank finally broke the short silence.   
  
“So what you pulled in the cafeteria the other day was pretty severe.” Frank said, nodding towards Gerard with a small laugh.   
  
Gerard chuckled as well, glancing down at his feet before lifting his gaze back to Frank’s, hair falling in his eyes again. “Well the extreme tends to make an impression I’ve learned over the years.”   
  
“Why’s a Bukowski quoting badass trying to make an impression in Sherwood, Ohio of all places?” Ohio was bad enough but Sherwood alone was like a tiny isolated cesspool of shit. It was small, insignificant, hardly a dot on the map. One of those towns that if you didn’t get out of right away you were sure to die here. Frank was waiting on his letter from Harvard or Stanford that could finally get him the hell out of this place once he graduated.   
  
“Entertainment.” Gerard shrugged. “Sometimes I like to shake things up when we get into a new town.” He tilted his head to the side as though thinking that over. “Every place is different but...the same all at once. It gets boring.”   
  
Frank couldn't even begin to imagine what it must be like going from town to town to the point where they all feel the same. Hell if he hopped on a bus to the next city it’d be like a whole new world. “Why do you move around so much?” Frank asked as he leaned back against the counter, hoping he wasn’t intruding too much.  
  
“My dad owns a “deconstruction” company.” Gerard said as he grabbed a cup next to him and started filling it up with an icee.   
  
“Deconstruction?” Frank asked.  
  
“Yeah, my old man seems to enjoy tearing things down more than building them up.” The grin on his face faltered but only for a second before it slipped back into place. Pulling that mask up looked routine and patterned. Like he had done it a million times before “You’ve probably seen the commercials.” He sat the icee on the counter holding his hands up, “The names Big Don, if it’s in the Way I’ll make your day.” He practically yelled, lowering his voice to an almost growl as he mocked his father's commecial.   
  
Frank choked out a surprised laugh. “Oh yeah! And he’s got the crown on his head and he pushes the button and the whole screen blows up and..." Gerard stared, seemingly amused, the edges of his mouth turned up. Frank’s laughter faded off. He coughed awkwardly, shuffling his feet before looking back up. “So, uh, that’s your dad?”   
  
“In all his semi-psychotic glory.” Gerard replied, that spark in his eyes gone, voice edging with something sad. His gaze was cast down as he flicked a piece of trash off the counter. "My father and I aren't exactly on the best of terms."   
  
Frank drew closer to Gerard. “I guess everyone’s life has got some static.” The two boys both looked up, Frank smiling sympathetically, and Gerard’s face softening. Suddenly though a car horn blared causing them both to jump. Frank glanced up to see Pete sticking his head out the window. Oh shit. He’d completely forgotten. His sigh turning into a slight groan. “For example: I don’t really like my friends.”  
  
Gerard nodded. “Yeah I don’t really like your friends either.” He replied with a hollow laugh, as he turned to glance towards the window. “Ditch ‘em. Hang out here instead.” He said turning back to Frank and lifting his hand to motion around the convenience store.   
  
Frank smirked, lacing his fingers behind his back and rocking on his heels. “7/11. Pretty snazzy place for a first date.” He joked, feeling that small rush of confidence return. He only hoped he wasn’t weirding Gerard out too much. Then again this was the same kid who creepily stared him down and beat up two guys in front of him all in the same day.   
  
A short laugh escaped past Gerard’s lips and Frank watched a genuine smile appear on his face as he rolled his eyes. “Hey now,” he said shaking a finger towards him. “I happen to love this place.”   
  
"Really?" Theme parks, movies, even a nice walk in the woods Frank could understand. But a gas station? Gas stations were a pit stop not something to fall in love with. “No offense or anything but why?” He asked genuinely curious.   
  
Gerard smiled crookedly. “When you’ve been to ten different high schools, ten different towns in the past four years everything can get a little blurry. Blends together.” He picked his icee back up, taking a sip “But no matter where you go there’s always a 7/11. It’s kind of stupid but it’s like the one constant, ya know?”   
  
“I guess that makes sense.” He picked at his chapped lips, brows knitted together. Frank couldn’t relate if he was being honest. Everything in his life had been a constant. Family, school, the friends he grew up with. Maybe that’s what had enticed him to dropping everything and joining up with Pete. It had been a new opportunity, a new adventure. Something different. Frank wanted more out of life than small towns and community college.   
  
Sure he missed the simplicity of his old life from time to time. But routine in Sherwood meant one thing: you were going in circles. You were stuck. And Frank would be damned if he got rooted down to a 9 to 5 job in this hell hole. He wondered if that’s why he felt drawn to Gerard in the same way he did with Pete. His town rarely got new kids and when they did they all typically fell into one of the many cliques that ran the halls. Gerard however had been different. Quoting writers, starting fights and getting the whole school talking about him in just a few days. It sent a buzz through Frank that he couldn’t quite explain.   
  
“So I come here.” Gerard continued after a beat of silence, Frank snapped his head back up. “Get an icee, freeze my brain and call it a night.”   
  
“Freeze your brain?” Frank asked flatly, brow raised.  
  
Gerard only nodded taking a large sip of the drink and squeezing his eyes shut, rubbing at his temple. “Numbs everything around you.” He said cracking a lid open, while grimacing. “Fight off pain with pain and all that jazz. Who needs crack or other shit when you can get a high right here.” There was something wicked in the way he smiled.   
  
Pain wasn’t anything new to Frank. He had grown accustomed to getting his head slammed against walls or getting kicked down in the hallway. Though he hadn’t had to deal with that in a while. Whatever pain Gerard described seemed entirely different. Frank never had felt the need to numb and fade everything out. He just sucked it up and dealt with it. But with how things were going lately he could see the appeal. Why Gerard would need something even as simple as a brain freeze to distract him from the rest of the world. Gerard seemed to keep that same cheshire grin on his face but every word he spoke was broken, aching.   
  
“Wanna hit?” He asked, shaking the drink to settle the icee at the bottom of the cup. Frank’s hand twitched in response and he started to reach out when suddenly he heard the car horn screeching loudly again, as Pete’s muted yelling rang over it. He could vaguely make out the words “corn nuts, Frank, fucking corn nuts!”  
  
“As much as I would love to,” He began with a sigh, dropping his arms back down. “I gotta head out.”  
  
Gerard pursed his lips and nodded knowingly before taking another sip. “I see.”  
  
Frank grabbed the corn nuts and said goodbye to Gerard as he walked up to the counter to pay. The cashier rang him up and handed back his change, wishing him a good  night. He was just about to push open the door when the other boy called for him.   
  
“Hey Frank!” He turned looking back at Gerard. “If you ever wanna take a break from being popular you know where to find me.” He motioned around the convenience store, smirk across his face. Frank returned the look with a teasing eye roll.   
  
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He retorted before pushing open the door, the bell signaling his exit. Frank trotted over to Pete’s porsche and tugged open the passenger side door. He dropped in and tossed the corn nuts in Pete’s direction.   
  
“What the fuck took you so long?” Pete asked picking up one of the bags and ripping it open.  
  
Frank had already shifted in his seat, head resting against the window. He could still see Gerard inside, wandering around the aisles aimlessly. “Botched robbery.” He replied sarcastically. Pete had already seemed to have lost interest though as he turned the radio in his car up and started backing out. They drove for a while the only noise between them whatever shit was blaring through the speakers.   
  
“God dammit Frank!” Frank shot up in his seat turning to look over at his friend. “You grabbed fuckin’ plain. I said BQ!”  
  
He bit back a laugh as he turned to look away from Pete, hiding his grin. “Whoops.” **  
**


	4. Death Wish Material

The music was loud, the people were loud, even the lights flashing around them felt loud. Frank swayed in his spot in Brendon's kitchen, both hands on the counter to steady himself. He looked down at the bottles of booze and assortment of glasses in front of him and then glanced over to where Patrick and Pete were, both sitting on bar stools, drinks in hand.  
  
“Okay, okay. So it’s salt, lime and then shot!” Frank said as he licked the salt off his hand, bit down on the lime in his other before moving and grabbing the shot of tequila that sat in front of him. He tilted his head, throwing the liquid back and  feeling the alcohol glide smoothly down his throat. It was a lot more impressive than the first time he took a shot when they arrived at the party. Frank choking and sputtering, taking every little bit of restraint he had not to turn in hurl in the sink next to him. Now it was as easy as downing water.   
  
“No it’s salt, shot-” Patrick began but was cut off by Pete.  
  
“You’re doing it wrong!” He snapped. To be fair he had explained the process to Frank four times now who just wasn’t getting it. Turns out his IQ didn’t really help in party situations. Doing long division in his head was a breeze, learning the steps of being a decent drinker- not so much.  
  
“Really?” Frank slurred as he sat the glass down and staggered backwards. “Because I feel great!” Pete groaned, slapping a hand to his face and Patrick smiled, laughing.   
  
“Ayy! Parties in here now?” The three of them looked up to see Brendon enter the kitchen a few people behind him. “What’s up Frank you havin’ fun?” He asked, looping an arm around Frank’s neck who nodded enthusiastically. He stumbled forward, back hunched under the weight of Brendon the two giggling like, well, like drunk teenage boys.   
  
“My best friend Brendon!” Frank yelled, his arm going around Brendon’s waist for support. “I’m having so much fun. The most fun I’ve ever had.” He felt light, his head swimming with the countless shots he’d down the moment Pete shoved him into the kitchen.The group laughed and for once it was with Frank, not at him. This is what it was like to be popular, he guessed. Parties, people and the noise to drown everything else out. Frank felt like he was flying.   
  
Then again that could be the weed.   
  
“Stump.” Brendon called to Patrick as he unwound himself from Frank. Frank wobbled a bit before finding a spot safely on one of the stools pushed against the kitchen counter. “Olivia’s been looking for you.” He grinned, tongue sticking out as he lifted his brows. Patrick threw on a sheepish smile before pushing past the group and out into the living room.   
  
Pete watched him leave before turning to look back at Brendon and the rest of the group. “Thought that kid would never get any.” He muttered, almost like a disapproving parent. Everyone laughed. Right on cue as usual. Even Frank felt a smile slip across his lips like a mask. He didn’t know if it was from the booze making everything around him all too hilarious or it was just muscle memory at this point.  
  
The talk continued, carrying on to all the different girls in their school they’d been with, girls from other schools. Pete even claiming that he hooked up with a couple girls from the local college. Frank wasn’t sure if he bought it, his story coming across too smooth and well rehearsed. Then again Pete fucking Wentz’s entire life was one big show.   
  
“So what about you, Iero?” Frank snapped his head up, realizing he hadn’t been paying attention. The warmth of the alcohol lulling him into a zoned state.   
  
“Huh?” He replied back, flatly.   
  
It was Brendon he realized who had spoken, the rest of the group of guys staring at him expectantly. Pete with a look like a serpent.   
  
“You’ve kind of got that whole, brooding, post-goth, ‘probably writes poetry about dead flowers’ thing going on.” Brendon continued, nodding to himself.   
  
“I do?” Frank raised a brow, shaking his head in disbelief. The last thing he was called was a “waste of space” by Pete and now he had apparently stepped up to some Morrissey wanna-be.   
  
“Absolutely.” Pete cut in, his smile all teeth. Like a threat. “I’m sure you’ve been getting loads of girls following after you, right?” It wasn’t a question, not something he should answer. It was a demand and Frank had no clue what to say.   
  
“Uhm.” He stalled, not liking the way Pete and Brendon’s interrogating eyes seemed to sober him up all too quickly. He didn’t understand. They would both know if Frank had any kind of thing going on with someone in the school. Hell, Pete would probably know before he even knew himself. Was he supposed to lie to fit in with the rest of the group, some kind of test? Maybe this whole party was set up to be some kind of test for him. With the way Pete worked he wouldn't even be surprised. Frank could feel the first few drops of sweat prickling at his back, nerves getting the better of him.   
  
Suddenly though his stomach twisted in a way that he knew wasn’t from the bit of panic setting in.  _Oh shit._  Frank quickly stood up, finding out that while his head was clearing up his body still hadn’t quite caught up as he wobbled slightly to the side.   
  
“Bathroom.” He said, looking towards Brendon, whose eyes widened. Frank’s stomach lurched again and he felt his mouth beginning to salivate unpleasantly. “Bathroom,  _now_.” He repeated every bit of urgency in his tone.  
  
“Aw fuck.” Brendon groaned, rolling his eyes. “Use the one upstairs in the guestroom. Third door on your left.”   
  
Frank didn’t wait another second as he shot past the group that had gathered in the kitchen. He heard the laughter following up after him and then Pete yelling at him to “learn to hold his liquor.” His cheeks burned with embarrassment but it wasn’t really something he was worried about at the moment. The need to find a toilet or sink before he stained the floor with his puke taking up an obvious priority.   
  
He took the steps two at a time as he practically ran towards the upstairs hall before pushing open the door Brendon had directed him too. It was dark in the room but Frank could see an open door to a connecting bathroom. He hurried in, flipping on the light before placing his hands on the sink, porcelain counter top cool against his clammy palms. His stomach churned, clenching and twisting. Frank bit down on his lip waiting for what was inevitably going to happen.   
  
He had that short moment of clarity as he stared down his own reflection in the mirror above the sink. His face was pale, sweat drops beading on his forehead. The hair that he’d spent hours on, making it appear to be perfectly imperfect, was now pushed to the side and away from his face, sticking up in all directions. He looked wrecked.   
  
His stomach turned again and Frank bent his head over the sink, emptying his insides of all the alcohol he had thrown back hours before. Once, twice and a third time. He could taste a bitter mix of copper and liquor across his tongue. It took everything in his power not to dry heave again. He shut his eyes, breathing in and out through his nose until his stomach finally settled. Wiping a hand across his mouth Frank lifted his head looking into the mirror. He didn’t recognize himself.    
  
His eyes looked dull and lifeless, with dark circles ringing around them like coffee stains. His skin pasty and sick, the complexion easily compared to a corpse. Did popularity have some kind of death sentence with it? A sigh pushed past his lips as he turned the faucet on, rinsing out the sink and then his mouth. Anything to rid the after taste.   
  
Frank shut off the light to the bathroom and stepped back into the darkened guest bedroom. He could hear the party outside the door, the noise and chaos muffled. Laughter, music, shouting, trying to fill every crevice of silence in the house. Frank moaned before slumping down to the floor, his back pressed against the bed. He tilted his head back, letting it rest against the end of the mattress, his knees drawn up towards him. If he could just get a moment of peace maybe he could manage to go back down and get through the rest of tonight  
  
“Uh, occupied?”   
  
He jumped as soon as he heard the voice speak. However his head was still reeling so Frank stayed planted on the floor. Jesus Christ, he really hoped he hadn’t walked in on some couple doing it. That’s the last thing he needed. Though at this point in the night he honestly wouldn’t even be surprised. A lamp clicked on behind him and Frank turned his head peering over the top of the comforter.  
  
“Patrick?” He asked, seeing his friend sitting on the edge of the bed. His glasses were missing, his hair that was typically hidden under some kind of hat messy and disheveled.    
  
“Yeah,” Patrick replied back, voice low. “Sorry I kind of didn’t expect anyone to come up here.”   
  
Frank pushed himself up, suppressing a groan and dropped himself on to the bed, facing Patrick who was currently turned, fiddling with the lamps light switch. “What are you doing up here?” he asked.   
  
Patrick sighed, running a hand through his hair. His brows were pulled together, mouth twisted up in a frown. He let out another irritated moan before falling back onto the bed with a thump, legs still dangling off the sides. He seemed to be having some kind of internal battle and Frank doubted he was going to get anything out of him.

“If you don’t wanna tell me I can just-”  
  
“Olivia’s pissed at me because I wouldn’t sleep with her.” Patrick finally said quickly, cutting Frank off.   
  
“Oh,” He replied back, surprised at the confession. The two boys were quiet, the only noise to be heard was the smothered thump of a bass and the ceiling fan above the bed, circling slowly. Frank unsure of what to say and Patrick staring blankly above. “Why...didn’t you?” He finally settled on, knowing how incredibly dumb of a question it was. All in all Frank didn’t really expect him to answer, but he watched his friend carefully.   
  
Patrick just pursed his lips, shaking his head. “I don’t know.” He answered back. “I don’t know it just...it just didn’t feel right. Ya know?”   
  
Frank didn’t know but he nodded in agreement anyway. It's not like he'd ever been in a situation like this. He was 17 and had never been on a real date, never had someone to hold hands with during movies. Someone to sneak out with in the middle of the night to walk the train tracks near town or sit on the roof and stare at the stars. The closest he had gotten to anything that resembled a relationship was when he and another girl got stuck in a closet together to play 7 minutes in heaven at a birthday party in middle school.  
  
The kiss was awkward, strange and just felt all wrong. He could remember not knowing where to put his hands, if he was kissing her correctly or if his eyes should be open or close. In short the girl didn’t talk to him much after that. But he caught people laughing about it behind his back for the next couple of weeks at school. Clearly Frank had fucked up the kiss somehow. Ending what could of been his only relationship. People weren't exactly jumping at the opportunity to get him in bed.  
  
So maybe Frank had no clue when it came to knowing if something felt “right” but he still had the common sense to know that if something didn't feel right then it just didn't. No point in trying to force something that isn't there.  
  
“Hey Patrick?” Frank asked, suddenly having a thought.  
  
Patrick sat up and turned himself around to face Frank, sitting legs crossed on the bed. “Yeah?”  
  
“Do you even like Olivia?” He questioned looking up to Patrick, who’s face immediately turned a light shade of pink.   
  
He shrugged some, reaching over to the nightstand where his glasses had been tossed to the side. “She’s one of the hottest girls in school.” He mumbled, placing his glasses on his nose and pushing his hair away from his face.   
  
Frank shook his head. “Well yeah but I mean do you like her? Like spending time with her, making out, going on dates, all that bullshit?”   
  
Patrick’s face seemed to twist together in anger and confusion. “Why wouldn’t I?” He shot back annoyed, shocking Frank a little by his tone.   
  
“Christ, Patrick I was just asking.” Frank said. “I mean if you don’t even like her that much why bother going out with her anyway?”  
  
The other boy didn’t say anything and again the two fell in silence. Frank however knew exactly what he was thinking. Because Pete pushed him too. Because Pete said that he had to. The consequences were unknown but there was a reason Pete fucking Wentz practically lead the school. He could ruin your life with a snap of his fingers. And maybe high school was only a short four years. But it was still a four years you had to go through and sometimes the living hell of being a social pariah for that long just wasn’t worth it.   
  
“I’m gonna get something to drink.” Frank finally said, pushing himself up and off the bed. “You want anything?”   
  
Patrick just shook his head, gaze cast down to his hands in his lap.   
  
He debated going over and giving him some comforting words. Telling him that he’s allowed to do what he wants and Pete can fuck off. But honestly that would just land Frank the role of being the worlds biggest hypocrite. Instead he pulled the door open and stepped back out into the loud noise and talking that swirled through the halls of the house.   
  
Walking back down the stairs he had to push through the throngs of people gathered all over the house. Frank knew there had to be more than just the juniors and seniors of his school invited to this party. He realized that he only recognized about half the faces there. Sherwood was a small town, the high school with a whopping population of 326 kids. It was one of those very annoying “everyone knows everyone” situations.   
  
When he went to grab another drink he asked a few people if they had seen Pete or Brendon. Someone said they were out back with a few friends smoking whatever they’d been passing around earlier. Frank debated going out there but decided against it for now.   
  
A girl in his first period Chemistry, Lindsey something, pulled him aside to talk for a bit but other than that Frank remained outside the crowd. Observing everything as he stayed seated on bar stools or lurked in empty corners. It was easier this way and something he was used to. He’d occasionally be forced into conversation by other classmates from school but they’d drunkenly stumble off after getting distracted by something else. He didn’t mind.   
  
After a while Frank pushed himself off the wall to head towards the kitchen for another drink or shot or hit. He didn’t really care at this point. Anything to keep the buzz he had going. The warm, numb feeling that crept through his body. It made him think of Gerard back at the gas station. But while the new kid preferred a bitter ice to chase everything away, Frank took to the thick and heavy embrace of liquor through his veins. At least for tonight. Though he was starting to wonder if he enjoyed the way alcohol made him forget everything a bit too much. Enough where it could become a problem. Frank only shook his head though. He didn’t want to think about that now.  
  
He moved through the living room, eyeing the entrance to the kitchen. He didn’t know if anyone was still in there or if they had all headed to the backyard where the majority of the party had spilled out to. As Frank went to move through a group of “giggling too loud for their own good” girls he felt his arm being grabbed wrenching him towards an empty hallway.   
  
“What the he- oh. Sup Pete.” Frank slurred slightly, nodding his head. He paused though when he looked up noticing the expression on Pete’s face. He looked furious.   
  
“Where the fuck is Patrick?” Pete snapped, grip on Frank’s upper arm tightening.   
  
He stared back blankly for a second letting his mind catch up. As it word turn out those last two drinks he threw back earlier weren’t the smartest ideas. Then again Frank had already gone beyond thinking of any smart ideas for the evening. He tugged his arm and Pete loosened the grasp enough for Frank to slip out.  
  
“Why?” He asked. “Something happen?” Frank assumed Patrick was still up in the guest room. Though he had left him a while ago. Suddenly he realized had no idea what time it was. Or how long it had been since he puked his guts out in the bathroom upstairs.   
  
“Fucking Olivia fucking Adams is going around telling everyone that Patrick freaked the fuck out as soon as they got upstairs. That he was flipping his shit all over the fucking place.” Pete fumed as he stepped closer towards Frank, arms crossed. “The kid fucking panicked as soon as he saw a real pair of tits in front of him. Like a fucking grade schooler and the entire school is gonna find out if he doesn’t fucking fix this-”   
  
“That’s a lot of F bombs, my friend-”   
  
“Jesus christ. She never knew how to shut her god damn mouth. Fucking bitch.” Pete slammed his fist against the wall behind him and Frank jumped.   
  
“Well,” Frank began as Pete glared at him, almost expectantly. “Tell her...to stop?”   
  
“Brilliant plan, Frankie. Thank you so much. What the fuck would we do without your brain?”  
  
“Shut the fuck up, Pete." Frank shot back before he could stop himself. "Patrick’s your friend. maybe you should be more worried about  _him._  Who gives a shit if Olivia is saying something. Okay? Like- who even cares?”   
  
Pete stared at Frank like he had just openly admitted that his hobbies included screwing his own mother and skinning cats alive every other weekend.   
  
“Who cares?” Pete asked, voice low. “ _Who cares?_ ” Oh boy. He was definitely going somewhere with this. Frank braced himself for another monologue on why being popular in high school was inevitably the most important thing you could do in your life. “You think it’s a god damn breeze keeping our reputation up Frank? You think it’s fucking easy? Because it’s not. You’re all a bunch of fucking jokes in this town. Nobodies, burn outs. But thanks to me I actually give you a fucking purpose to get up in the morning. And then  _you_  try to throw it away for a greasy basement punk and Patrick can’t even get it up enough to get fucking laid and  _panics_. It’s a bunch of kindergarten bullshit.”   
  
“Oh fuck you. You act like this is it for us!” Frank shouted, seeming to catch Pete off guard. “You act like high school is end game but it’s not. It's just- it's just not. You can rot in this fucking town if you want Wentz but not me. I’m- I’m-” Frank didn’t know what he was, feeling his pulse racing and face flushing with anger. “You know what I’m fucking done. I’m done. Thanks for the grand fucking opportunity. Being popular was super fun but I’m just gonna go back to the real world.” Frank pushed past Pete and back out into the living room where a few people were still gathered.   
  
Suddenly though Pete reached out and yanked his arm back. Frank spun around, shoving him away. “You wanna take a hit, Frankie?” Pete sneered. “Go ahead. You’re right though. You are done. With us and with everyone else.” A smile stretched across his face. A look Frank had never seen before. It was vile. Pete stepped in close, whispering. “You thought it was bad before. Just you fucking wait and see what happens when I get through with you. Not even the mutts are gonna touch you now. You’ll be fucking lucky if you make it through the rest of the semester, let alone high school.”   
  
He could only stare at Pete, mouth open, eyes wide. Frank took a breath and all at once though he was bending over, stomach clutched as he hurled out the rest of the drink in his stomach. Vomit splattering across the rug and Pete’s shoes. Frank groaned quietly as he wiped his hand over his mouth. “Oh...shit.”   
  
“You son of a bitch!” Pete practically roared. “After everything I did this is what I get? Paid in god damn puke!” He grabbed the front of Frank’s shirt looking like he was ready to throw a punch.   
  
Frank grinned, his whole body vibrating with a surge of adrenaline. “Lick it up, baby. Lick. It.  _Up_.”   
  
Instead of bringing his fist to his face Pete shoved him back in disgust. “You’re a dead man walking, Iero.” Pete shot back. “Let’s see if you even survive the end of the week.”   
  
Frank looked around suddenly noticing that all eyes were on the two. People turning and whispering into each other’s ears but their gaze never swaying as they seemed to stare disapprovingly at Frank.  _Fuck._  Without waiting for something else to happen he pushed past Pete and half stumbled, half ran to the front door, wrenching it open to be greeted by the cool night. Pete was right. He felt like a dead man walking.   
  


* * *

  
  
The miles back to his house added up but Frank was in no rush. He had to guess that it was probably a little past midnight, maybe later. The streets were empty and almost every house he walked past had their lights shut off. Cold winds bit at his cheeks and he tried to keep his head down, hood pulled up, to avoid it.   
  
Frank was still completely trashed, his head spinning and he was really hoping he was going in the right direction. With his luck tonight he’d probably wind up passing out in a ditch somewhere secluded where no one would find him. If he was being honest though that thought was a little tempting. He had to keep talking himself out of buying a bus ticket with what little money he had and getting as far away from this town as possible.   
  
Pete’s words still rung thickly in his ears and Frank had to try his best not to think about it too much. Or the fact that tomorrow was Sunday, the day after that Monday. The day Frank would die a social death. He would have one last day and two more nights before his supposed world came to an end. The thought was terrifying and freeing all at once. Maybe he could just go do whatever the fuck he wanted. Rob a bank, light a bush on fire. Who fucking cares, right? According to Pete and everyone else in that god damn school it couldn’t be worse than this.   
  
His thoughts of mild anarchy were interrupted however when he heard a motor sputtering behind him. Frank turned to see someone on a motorcycle slowing down, as he lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the bright headlight. He could feel his heart beat pick up, thinking someone was about to mug him or murder him. The person pulled to a stop and Frank halted too, waiting for them to pull out a gun or knife. Instead though they took off their helmet.  
  
“Hey.” Gerard greeted, black hair falling down as he tucked the helmet under his arm. “Need a lift?”  
  
 _You're a dead man walking, Iero._ He had nothing left to lose.


	5. Kiss You To Death

He drove a motorcycle. Of course he drove a motorcycle. He quoted Bukowski, made hanging out at a gas station look cool and drove a fucking motorcycle. What a god damn cliche. Gerard rode in like a modern day bravado all dressed in leather jackets and smelling of cigarette smoke. It made perfect sense that he would be the one to rescue Frank, wandering aimlessly down the streets.   
  
Pressed against Gerard with his arms wrapped firmly around his waist as they drove through the darkened streets wasn’t exactly how Frank pictured the night going. But he sure as hell wasn’t about to complain. He leaned in a little, his head resting on Gerard’s back, the leather cool against his cheek. Gerard had to reach down at one point and pull Frank’s arms tighter around his stomach, signaling Frank to grip a little harder so he wouldn’t slip off. Frank, who still wasn’t completely sober at this point, was more than happy to comply.   
  
It was a bit hard to believe that less than an hour ago he’d been puking his guts out all over Pete fucking Wentz and now he was making his grand escape on the back of a motorbike. This was like some kind of bullshit fairytale.   
  
Gerard turned around to say something but Frank couldn’t really understand him with his voice muffled by the helmet and the motor roaring in his ears. However they suddenly slowed as Gerard turned to pull the bike up into the driveway of a house. He pulled to a stop, the motorcycle jerking a little and Gerard brought his foot down, kicking out the stand. He swung his leg off and removed his helmet, setting it on one of the handle bars. Frank wobbled to the side and Gerard was quick to steady him, gently helping him down from the bike.   
  
“Holy shit.” Frank slurred out as he stumbled over a bit.   
  
“First time on a motorcycle?” Gerard looked down, smirk on his face.   
  
Frank nodded and looked up towards the house. It was moderate in size, the lights all shut off. “This your place?” He asked.   
  
Gerard nodded an annoyed expression on his face and ran a hand to fluff out his matted down, dark hair. “Yep.” He replied and threw his arms out. “Home sweet fuckin’ home. Hope you don’t mind crashing here tonight.” He began walking towards the front door, then paused. “Unless you want me to take you back to your house?”   
  
Frank only shook his head and followed Gerard up the pathway. He didn’t really want to be home by himself. His mom thought he’d be staying at Brendon’s anyway so it wouldn’t matter much if he didn’t turn up tomorrow morning. The two were quiet, footsteps falling light and timid against the dewy grass. Frank tripped over the front porch step and nearly fell before grabbing onto the back of Gerard’s jacket for support. He spit out a laugh and Gerard smiled.   
  
“Alright, alright.” He adjusted himself so that he had an arm looped around Frank’s waist the other, gently tugging open the front door. “Take it easy and try not to smash your face on anything.” Gerard said as he led him into the house.   
  
Frank nodded as he silently followed behind like some kind of drunk puppy. His eyes examined the house taking in the appearance. He wasn’t sure what to expect but it didn’t fit Gerard at all. Granted him and his father had just moved in but even in the dark he could tell how incredibly untouched the place felt. Like walking into some kind of model home.   
  
Gerard flipped on a lamp sending the room into a dimly lit glow. Frank blinked a few times adjusting to the light as he further inspected the house. He couldn’t help but feel a tug at his stomach. If the house didn’t seem practically empty before, it lay almost barren in the light. No pictures, no books about photography or gossip magazines scattered across the coffee table. No decorative pillows or even an unlit candle along the plain shelves. Not a single thing to suggest that someone lived here. He wasn't sure why that had him so upset.  
  
He looked up to Gerard but he didn’t seem bothered in the slightest by the vacant looking room. Gerard caught Frank staring and quirked a crooked grin.   
  
“Come on. My rooms this way.”   
  
The two boys made their way down one of the halls. Gerard kept a hand wrapped around Frank’s wrist like he was afraid he might wander off. Frank didn't mind tagging along behind him. Gerard paused in front of the last door on the left and pushed it open.   
  
Frank wasn’t sure what to expect. Another vacant room to match the rest of the house? Dark walls, covered with obscure, band posters and obscure, angry art by obscure, artists? Maybe he’d open the door and there’d be a shrine waiting for an innocent lamb to slaughter. (Frank being the lamb). Given how most of this night had gone a little part of him was hoping for the latter. After all according to Pete and the rest of high school this is one of his last nights to live. Maybe Gerard could just end it now and put him out of his misery.  
  
The door brushed against the carpeted floor with a soft noise and Frank peered into the darkened room. When Gerard turned the bedroom light on he was a little surprised and slightly disappointed to see there was no satanic, cult-ish shrine after all. While the room wasn’t empty by any means it was incredibly clean and put together. The walls were a plain white like the rest of the house but there were a few pieces of art taped to the walls to suggest that _someone_  actually lived there. When Frank looked a little closer he realized all the artwork was in the same edgy style. With thick black lines and pointed shapes. They all seemed to be torn from notebook pages and he wondered if this is what Gerard spent his time doing. He remembered seeing him sketching away in his notebook after all.   
  
There was a full sized bed shoved in the corner with a navy blue comforter tucked between the mattress and box spring, pulled tight at the edges. Next to that was a nightstand with an alarm clock, lamp and ashtray on top. There were a few cigarette butts scattered next to it. The only messy thing in the room. A few cheap looking bookshelves were pushed against the wall filled with CDs, vinyls, tapes and books of every size and color. One bookshelf was dedicated to nothing but comics and novels. Frank made a beeline for that one crouching down in front of it. “Wow.” The amount of unknown and new comics were impressive.   
  
Gerard ducked his head with a sheepish look as he sat down on his neatly made bed. “I know, I know.” He said sounding embarrassed. Something Frank though Gerard wasn’t capable of. “Kind of lame.”   
  
“Are you kidding?” Frank replied. “This is incredible. Puts pretty much everything I own to shame.” Sherwood had exactly one pathetic comic book store in the entire city. If he wanted anything other than Superman or Batman he had to take three buses into the next couple of towns over. He and Ray used to do that almost every Saturday and spend the rest of the weekend tearing through the colorful pages. Frank missed being whisked away into stories of heroes and villains duking it out. Now he spent his weekends driving around with Pete and the rest of them somehow managing to do nothing and everything all at once.   
  
_Well not anymore._   
  
“Doubt it.” Gerard laughed but moved to sit down next to Frank as he seemed to absentmindedly run his hand along the well used spines of comics. “Not very many things interest me.” He pulled one from the lineup, a first edition of The Punisher. “But my mom used to buy me and my brother a different series every time we had to move. Told us every town we went to was our own new story. We could be whoever we wanted.” He flipped it over in his hand as he thumbed across a few pages. Scenes of violence quickly flashed by before Gerard placed the comic back on the shelf. “Jokes on her I guess. It’s always a different city but the same fucking story.” He said with a grim smile.   
  
Frank wasn’t sure what to say. It’s not as if Sherwood, Ohio had anything new to offer. It’s where you grew old just to die. Not make some kind of history. “You have a brother?” He asked, trying to diverge the conversation.   
  
“Had.” Gerard corrected him and Frank felt his heart drop.   
  
“Oh. I’m- fuck man I-”   
  
Gerard placed his hand on one of Frank’s knees, quieting him. “You didn’t know. It’s fine.” But it didn’t feel fine. Still, Frank didn’t want to push the topic any farther. Gerard however continued. “He passed away a few years ago. Mom split after that.” The usual fire to his tone was gone, replaced by something dark and hollow. Something he imagined that Gerard had spent a lot of time perfecting to cover up with sarcasm and quick retorts. “Every family’s got their bullshit I guess.”

  
“I’m sorry.” Frank didn’t say anything else, just watched Gerard with sad eyes. The other boy looked up at him, the bold smirk crossing his lips as soon as he met Frank’s stare.   
  
“Don’t look at me like that.” He teased.   
  
Frank tried to smile back. “Like what?”   
  
“Like I’m one bullet away from coloring these walls red.” Gerard said darkly. Frank opened his mouth to protest but was silenced again by Gerard hauling him up. “Okay, I’m fucking tired.”   
  
Frank agreed with a nod. He didn’t even realize how exhausted he was until he stood and stretched his arms up over his head. “I uh- I can crash on the floor or the couch or whatever it doesn’t matter to me.” He said, looking around the room for any extra blankets.   


But Gerard shook his head. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He smiled and pushed him towards the bed. “You’ve clearly had a hell of a night and I would be an impolite host if I made you sleep on the floor.” Suddenly Frank felt Gerard right behind him, mouth next to his ear. “Besides, I get cold at night.” He whispered and laughed as Frank turned bright red.   
  
“I-”   
  
“Relax, Frank. I’m just messing with you.” Gerard turned towards his closet, tugging his shirt up over his head. Frank did his best not to stare but snuck a glance from the corner of his eye. Without his shirt his hair looked even darker contrasted against the pale skin of his back. The inky mess held just a few inches above his shoulders and brushed lightly across his neck. Frank clenched his fists, the sudden urge to run his fingers through Gerard’s hair.   
  
_God Iero. Get it together._   


He’d like to blame the alcohol for the very sudden and rapid, impure thoughts that played through his head but at this point he could feel himself sobering up by each passing minute

  
Suddenly he felt a soft material thrown in his face. Frank jumped and grabbed at it to see it was a pair of shorts. Immediately after a shirt was tossed towards him as well. Frank managed to actually catch that one before he was nailed in the head again.   
  
“You can change into those if you want.” Gerard said as he pulled another pair of shorts out from the closet. “No offense but you kind of reek like a frat house.”   
  
Frank shot him a look but shrugged off his blazer and peeled the shirt from his back. He sniffed it a little and quickly retracted, holding the piece of clothing as far away from him as possible. Gerard was right. It smelled like he spent the entire night rolling around in booze and vomit. Not exactly attractive. He looked up to see the other boy kicking his pants off leaving him in nothing but a pair of boxers. Feeling a blush creep towards his cheeks Frank spun around.   
  
“You spend a lot of time in frat houses, then?” He asked as he pulled the shirt Gerard gave him over his head. Frank glanced down to see the name of a band he didn’t recognize and a picture of a melting skull staring back at him. How _edgy._   
  
Gerard snorted a little before moving to turn off the light and dropping down into the bed. “Maybe once or twice.” He said with a shrug. And the way he said it made Frank’s ears turn bright pink in a way he couldn’t explain. He could feel the heat traveling from his face down to his chest as he as quickly as possible pulled his jeans off and pulled the shorts on and up over his hips.   
  
There was a beat of silence as Frank eyed the bed before sliding in under the covers next to Gerard, who scooted closer to the wall to give him a little more room. Frank laid on his back looking up at the ceiling. He noticed a few of those plastic glow-in-the-dark stars were stuck to the top and he wondered if Gerard put them there or if they were simply left behind by the last person who occupied the house.   
  
He used to have some of those when he was a kid. His parents had bought him a massive set and Frank spent a ridiculous amount of time making constellations and galaxies across his ceilings. The ones here however were scattered in random, chaotic spurts, some even reaching down to the walls. He liked that he realized, resonated with it.   
  
“So.” Gerard’s voice broke through the silence and Frank started a little. He felt the other boy roll onto his side, facing him. Frank glanced over as well.   
  
“So?”   
  
“So you wanna tell me why I found you wandering down the street? Forgive me for making assumptions but you don’t seem like the type to go gallivanting around drunk in the middle of the night.” He teased.   
  
Frank huffed at the accusation. “Well that’s where you’re wrong. Actually that’s my nightly routine and it was very rude of you to interrupt.” Grinning he shifted over so the two were now facing each other.   
  
“Oh, well my apologies.” Gerard said sarcastically, a small smile still on his lips. “Come on. What happened?”   
  
He held back a sigh and stared at Gerard. Even through the dark he could see his eyes, bright and gleaming. Intense. He had to actually take a second to remind himself that he’s really only known him for a week. Though something about him just felt so familiar. Familiar but new and exciting all bundled into one person. Like something Frank’s been searching for for years and it finally just fell into his lap. Maybe he was an idiot for trusting him so easily. But maybe doing something reckless like trusting a practical stranger was exactly what he needed right now.   
  
So he cracked.   
  
He cracked and told Gerard everything.   
  
Starting with the party and the mess that turned into. From Brendon being a dick, to Patrick who could probably do better than all of them. Frank was pretty sure he spent a solid ten minutes complaing about Pete fucking Wentz alone. But he couldn’t help it. It was like everything he’d kept bottled up inside him since the start of the school year came spilling out in an endless stream. Months of silently standing by while Pete saved and destroyed his life all at once.   
  
Even back to when he was kid. Maybe where it all started. How the years of friendship with Ray came to a halt just because someone told him to. How Frank felt useless and weak. _Pathetic._ He couldn’t seem to stop but Gerard never silenced him. Just listened intently. Frank would look over at him every now and then to see if he was getting annoyed. But he just had the same invested look on his face. He felt his stomach twist in knots of gratitude every time.   
  
“I just…” Frank finally seemed to be at a loss for words. “I just always imagined things turning out differently. It was supposed to be simple, cut and dry. Go to high school, fly under the radar and then get into a good college. Get out of this town before I lost my mind.” It always seemed so easy in books and movies. “But then I fucked it all up for one chance at- at _something._ Something I thought was worth it. I just wanted one life changing memory from this place. Something solid that I could look back on but now I don’t know. Fuck, I just don’t know.” He wasn’t even sure if he was making sense at this point and Gerard didn’t say anything.   
  
“So what now?” Gerard finally breathed out, closer than he remembered. “What do you want now, Frank?”   
  
_What do you want now?_ No one had asked him that before. Because for the majority of his life he had every single thing planned out. Every minute of every day. From point A to point B and yeah sure maybe he didn't know _exactly_  what was going to happen in between. But it wasn't supposed to matter. Just that he got exactly where needed to be. But now everything seemed to come crashing down around him. Everything he'd worked towards all because of one stupid mistake. One stupid but wonderful and awful mistake. And now Frank was left in the aftermath with no idea what to do. He looked up and met Gerard's eyes.   
  
Nothing made sense anymore.  
  
Before his mind could even catch up with his body he was kissing Gerard. Hard and desperate. He felt the other boy instantly react, catching Frank’s bottom lip between his teeth. He couldn’t help but let out an embarrassing noise mixed between a gasp and a groan. Gerard smiled in response.   
  
_God he tasted like fucking sin. Sin and cigarettes._   
  
Suddenly he felt Gerard’s hands on his chest pushing him back. “Frank,” he said, almost sounding disappointed. Frank hated the tone of his voice. “We can’t. You’re drunk and I-”   
  
“I’m not.” He cut him off sharply. His voice coming off a little harsher than he intended. Taking a breath he tried again. “I want this. I want _you._ I want...I want-”   
  
But that was apparently all Gerard needed to hear as Frank felt himself being shoved back against the mattress, Gerard’s warm body on top of him. He leaned up to kiss him again, snaking one hand through the shaggy locks of black hair, pulling him closer. Frank rocked up against his hips, already feeling heat course through every inch of his body.   
  
Gerard let out a moan and Frank quickly realized he’d do anything to hear it again. He moved to sit up, tugging off his shirt and discarding it on the floor next to the bed. Gerard was quick to push his lips against Frank’s, one hand cradling the back of his head, grip hard in his hair. The other trailed along his chest, fingernails scratching across his skin in ways Frank knew would leave marks in the morning. He practically came undone. Gerard kept grinning, laying Frank back down on the bed and moving so he was straddling his hips, pressing his hard-on up against Frank’s.   
  
Frank opened his eyes for a brief second to see the glowing stars staring back down at him. They seemed brighter than before. The pale yellow-green glow like neon signs against the black of the ceiling. Frank breathed in all heavy sighs as Gerard started moving his mouth from his lips down to his neck. Placing kisses across his jaw line before hitting that sweet spot on his neck that Frank wasn’t even aware _was_ a sweet spot until now.   
  
“Fuck.” He hissed out. “Gerard, I’m-”   
  
“Yeah.” Gerard seemed to know, nodding his head and shifting down, pushing sheets out of the way as he tugged on Frank’s shorts. Guess there wasn’t really any point in changing after all. Frank lifted his hips from the bed a bit so Gerard could slide off the shorts a little easier, before moving to take off his own. All that separated them now was the thin fabric of their boxers. Frank knew he was already leaking with precum and it seemed Gerard wasn’t far behind.   
  
Hands were everywhere, digging into flesh followed by lips crushing against each other. Frank fought for breath and felt his head practically spinning as Gerard touched him and moved in ways he couldn’t even begin to wrap his mind around. Frank rolled his hips up into Gerard’s desperate for some kind of friction or release. One hand still hung loosely in his hair, the other painting bruises into Gerard’s lower back.   
  
He felt Gerard’s rough hands travel to the waistband of his boxers and couldn’t help but squirm in response, panting out needy noises. His boxers were pushed down past his ass and Frank couldn’t kick them off his feet fast enough. It took everything in his power not to spill all over the sheets the moment his dick made contact with the hot skin of Gerard’s stomach. He pushed up again and felt Gerard wrap his fingers around Frank’s shaft, giving a light squeeze. Frank moaned loud enough to cause worry but not enough to stop.   
  
Gerard sat up, scooting down so he was closer to Frank’s knees and started pumping his hand. Frank sat up on his elbows, unable to do much more than watch and try not to lose his fucking mind. His eyes had long adjusted to the dim room and he could make out Gerard, a dark silhouette against the white walls hunched over and perfect as he sat on top of Frank. One hand clenched a pillow next to his head, the other curled into a fist as his body attempted to buck upwards into Gerard’s fist. But the weight of Gerard kept him down.   
  
_Reckless. Reckless, free and fucking alive._ Frank felt weightless as his heart pounded against his rib cage. Gerard continued to move his fist up and down Frank’s dick, his thumb teasing along the head. Frank lost it at that with a grunt turned groan he came into Gerard’s hand who leaned down to capture his lips in a kiss, tongue flicking across Frank’s mouth all chapped and wanting.   
  
“Damn.” Frank panted against Gerard who in turn laughed and moved to rest his forehead on Frank’s shoulder. They sat like that for a minute, just breathing, skin on warm flushed skin. Gerard sat up again and kissed Frank, softer than before. His hand cupped his jaw, the pad of his thumb rubbing Frank’s cheek. He could practically feel himself melting. Gerard rolled over onto the bed, pulling Frank with him so that he was the one on top. He deepened the kiss, two hands embracing his cheeks. Gerard shifted again, pushing slightly on Frank’s head and he couldn't help but pull back confused. Gerard chewed on his lower lip, brow raised and without words Frank got the idea.   
  
Suddenly he wished he wasn’t as sober as he was at the moment. Frank could use a little liquid courage but he really didn’t want to fuck this up. He slid down from Gerard until he was straddling just past his shins. Frank pulled at the waistband of his boxers and carefully fisted Gerard. He’d never been with another guy. Hell he’d hardly been with a girl. Frank only knew what he liked so he tried that on Gerard. Testing slowly at first, moving his hand up and down, his cock already well hard and spitting at the top with precum.   
  
Whatever he was doing seemed to work as Gerard’s breathing grew thicker and muffled curses spilled past his lips. Frank experimented a little with his rhythm before finally getting a surge of bravery and bent down, taking the head of the dick in his mouth. The sound that came from Gerard made it absolutely worth it. Frank dragged his tongue along the shaft before pulling his lips back around Gerard, bobbing himself up and down slowly. Suddenly Gerard’s fingers were in Frank’s hair pushing him farther down. Frank choked a little in surprise but kept up, mentally reminding himself to breathe through his nose.   
  
Gerard bucked up into Frank’s mouth his little whines and moans only barely louder than Frank’s heavy breaths. His grip got harder and Frank twirled his tongue along in hazardous patterns until finally Gerard spilled into his mouth. Frank pulled back, swallowing and wiping a hand across his face.   
  
“Holy shit.” Gerard’s cheeks were flushed, white teeth gleaming in the dark with a wicked grin. “That was- I’m impressed.” At least he wasn’t the one at a loss for words this time.   
  
Frank laughed and fell over onto his back next to Gerard, one hand slung across his stomach, the other pushing the hair back from his face. Gerard shifted on his side and grabbed Frank’s jaw turning him to lock one more kiss. Frank could only smile as he kissed him back before settling into the shape of Gerard’s body.   
  
“Ya know this isn’t exactly how I imagined this night going.” Frank noted looking up at Gerard, who was gently twisting locks of Frank’s hair around his fingers.   
  
“Disappointed?” Gerard mused.   
  
“ _Fuck_ no.” Frank replied back, unable to help the stupid smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth. Gerard squeezed him closer, placing a kiss on the top of his head.   
  
“Go to sleep, Frankie.”     
  
It was the first time, Frank decided, that he didn’t absolutely fucking hate that nickname.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back? Back again? Saintwrites back. Tell a friend.
> 
> Or don't it's your life honestly. SORRY FOR THE LONG AS FUCK HIATUS BUT I'M BACK. And to make up for it I hope you enjoyed some smut. I mean it was going to happen in this chapter regardless but yeah cool.


	6. A Myriad of Scars

The entire world spun around him. Flashes of straight white teeth against blackened walls and mocking laughs that sneered and echoed in an empty, endless chamber. Frank felt like Alice falling through the rabbit hole only he was trapped in place, everything rushing by him as he grasped desperately at anything to stop the eternal, downward spiral. His fingers slipped past the sleeves of well pressed blazers and bags of convenience store corn nuts. The sound of a horn blared in the distance growing louder and louder.

Without warning he landed on a pothole filled road, his shoulder bouncing painfully against the ground. Frank pushed himself up with a groan, rubbing at his head. Blinking, his vision adjusted, all rimmed heavy and black around the edges as he tried to observe around him. He was on the same street as before. Earlier that night when he was walking home from Brendon’s party. Confused, he tried to stand but found his legs refused to move  
  
 _The fuck is going on?_

Frank pushed again but it’s like his two legs were separated from his body. Not in pain or numb but just not responding to anything he did. The first threat of panic bubbled in his chest when suddenly lights appeared further down the road. Frank squinted, holding up his hand to shield his eyes when he realized they were headlights to a car. Getting closer to where Frank was currently stuck.

“Shit, shit, _shit-fuck._ ” Frank cursed as he tried and tried again to move but no matter what he did he couldn’t get up. Just sat there uselessly in the middle of the street as the car barreled down, tires screeching against pavement. The horn thundered once more, deafening in his ears, his head reeling and aching.

The car came closer, only yards away. The horn blurred into one seething noise of crashing pain and over that Frank could hear taunts and jeers and most of all that cold, violent laugh that felt all too familiar in his head. He closed his eyes, waiting for the impact and opened his mouth to scream.

“No!” Frank shot up in bed, sheets tangled around his legs as sweat trickled down his face. He sucked in breaths of air like he’d forgotten how to breathe. His chest was heaving, palms clammy and his entire body shook with the aftershock of the nightmare. Frank pushed back dampened locks of hair from his forehead as he willed himself to calm down.

He looked over to see Gerard's silhouetted form still completely passed out. Kid slept like a fucking rock.

“Rise and shine sleeping beauty.” Ice shot through his entire body the moment that voice broke through the silence. The lamp on the nightstand clicked on, room illuminated in an orange glow. “So Frankie boy got fucked by the big bad wannabe wolf. I’d like to say I’m shocked but- I guess everything sort of makes sense now.” Pete’s grin was stitched across his face, wide and wild. He was leaned up against the side table, arms crossed and head cocked to the side.

“Pete-” Frank panicked, scooting away from him, his hand hitting next to Gerard's arm. “Pete how the fuck did you-”

“I’m like the government, baby.” Pete leaned in, fingers wrapping around Frank’s chin and forcing his head up. “Eyes everywhere.”

Frank couldn’t move, frozen with fear. Pete had already threatened to ruin his life after everything that happened at the party and now, _fucking now_ , he had even more dirt to crucify him. He couldn’t even beg or spit out some pathetic excuse of an apology, his throat closing up with nerves. Sheets were fisted in his hands, body trembling and he realized that a get away to any place but here was sounding better and better. Maybe he should have taken up a life on the run after all.

“Frankie, Frankie, Frankie.” Pete repeated, tutting as he shook his head and released the grip he had on Frank’s chin. “I can’t wait to watch them tear you apart for this come Monday morning.”

And Frank knew he meant it. If there was anything he was sure Pete loved more than building someone like Frank up it was pulling them apart by every loose thread he intentionally left and intentionally picked at.

“Y-you can’t.” He finally managed to stutter out. “Pete, please-”

“Oh I can't?" He paused. "Maybe you’re right.” Pete said coldly, cutting him off. “Maybe I’ll just put you out of your misery right now.”

Hands were suddenly wrapped around his throat as the air in his lungs ceased to exist. Frank attempted to move away beating at Pete’s grip that was only growing tighter the more he struggled. He felt tears start to prick at the corners of his eyes, vision going dark and blurry. Pete only laughed, loud and manic the grin growing wider and wider until it split the sides of his face. Frank only managed one final breath as he screamed for his life.

“Frank!” He felt his shoulders being lifted, slammed back into the mattress, as someone attempted to shake him. “Frank, wake up! Wake up!”

His eyes snapped open as Frank tried to sit up, nearly falling out of the bed in the process. Gerard grabbed onto him, holding him steady. Frank tried to slow his breathing as he felt himself tremble with fear and sheer adrenaline. A soothing hand was pressed to the side of his cheek as Gerard, gently tilted Frank’s face towards his own.

“Hey, you’re alright. You’re okay.” He hushed him, pulling him closer as he ran his fingers through Frank’s sweaty hair. “It was just a nightmare. You’re safe.” Gerard’s calm tone was an even match to Frank’s unhinged anxiety and he slowly forced himself to take in shaky breaths as the nightmare faded from his mind and reality sunk in.

“Dammit.” Frank cursed and hurriedly pushed himself out of the bed. “God dammit.” He mumbled as he grabbed for his boxers and tugged them on. Gerard immediately followed after him as he sat up to pull on his own pair of discarded underwear from the night before.

“Well this isn’t the first time someone’s reacted like this when they woke up next to me.” Gerard laughed a little as he watched Frank scramble around the room for his clothes. Frank ignored him. “Hey-”

“Sorry.” Frank finally looked up at him with a half-hearted smile on his face. “I'm really sorry I just- I gotta go see Pete.” He had already pulled on his jeans and was in the process of tugging on the shirt Gerard let him borrow when he felt hands on his waist. Frank pulled the shirt down to see Gerard in front of him, looking concerned.

“I thought you were done with those assholes.” He said, eyes narrowed. Frank only shook his head and shrugged past him.

“You don’t understand. That was all last night, the booze, the adrenaline.” He paused just long enough to glance back at Gerard, “you.” Frank started walking down the hallway, noticing that even in the daylight the house still looked perfectly dead. He wondered if Gerard’s dad had even been home in the time that they were there. “But now the sun’s up and that stupid fantasy of a world without Pete Wentz is gone. I had to wake up eventually.”

“No-” Gerard followed Frank down the hall.

“Yes.” Frank shot back, finally stopping when Gerard reached for his hand. “I have to go apologize. I have to- I have to make it through the rest of this year or I’m gonna lose my mind or die a social death. Probably both.” He knew he was being a bit over dramatic but that nightmare shook him up a lot more than he’d like to admit. “I’m not brave and fearless like you are.” The two boys had a stare down. Frank standing determined and Gerard looking at him a little colder than before. After a beat though his features softened.

“Alright.” He nodded. “I’ll come with you.”

“Really?” Frank brightened up a little at that. Not expecting Gerard to offer.

  
“Yeah.” Gerard squeezed his hand before letting go. He went into his room to throw on his leather jacket and brought a sweatshirt too and tossed it to Frank. “You probably need back up.” He said, cheekily. “Plus I can give you a ride.”

Frank couldn’t help the warm smile that came to his face as he leaned over, grabbing Gerard’s hand. “Thank you.” He said before kissing him on the cheek. Gerard grinned back.

“By the way, last night,” Frank started, grinning a little sheepishly. “You uh-” He awkwardly moved to fix Gerard’s collar before giving him two light pats on the chest. “You were the first person I’ve ever done anything like that with okay let’s go.”

“Oh. Wait what?!”

 

* * *

 

Unfortunately for Frank the ride to Pete’s house was a lot shorter than he hoped it would be. Sooner than he thought he and Gerard were pulling into the driveway of the mini mansion, Gerard’s beat up motorcycle looking out of place among the shiny new cars. Too many cars for a family of three. The two boys stared up at the house, sun shining down on it like some kind of welcoming beacon. Even the home preached false advertisement.

The window panels were stained white and shiny. The grass an abnormal green that was speckled with various gardens that was made to look perfectly imperfect. There was a porch swing and a welcome mat with a charming little statue of a fat toad next to it. The entire place just screamed “please come in but do not touch.” It paralleled Gerard’s empty home in a different way. This home was made to look lived in, made to deceive.

“You don’t have to do this.” Gerard seemed to sense Frank’s hesitation. Frank only sighed.

“Actually, I do.”

They made their way around the front of the house and to the side where Frank knew the door was always unlocked. His parents were most likely out, considering it was Sunday morning and the Wentz family were good, holy people. Praising the lord at church. While their son however was most likely sleeping off a hangover. Pete’s parents would probably tell everyone he was feeling a little under the weather (like half the teenage population in the town at the moment) and would gain the sympathy from every church goer. Maybe manipulation was something you were born with.

Frank hesitated when he got to the door, wondering if he should knock. This was the first time he was here without Brendon or Patrick. The two usually accompanying him whenever they all hung out over at Pete’s house. Which was almost always every weekend. Pete liked to keep things on home base. All his pawns in one place.   
  
Instead however Gerard took the initiative and pushed the door open. Frank was more than relieved that he was here with him. Knowing he’d probably never get the nerve up to take one step inside the house. And then he’d really be screwed.

The side door led into the kitchen. A large and warmly decorated room that looked like it could have been featured in some homemaker’s magazine. In all the days Frank spent over here the only time spent in the kitchen was grabbing snacks, booze or usually both. It didn’t look like a single thing had been moved or nudged out of place since he’d been over here.

“His room’s upstairs.” Frank said as he headed for the polished spiral staircase past the kitchen. “You can stay here if you want.” Gerard’s hand slipped back into his as he pulled him away from the first step.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere.” He replied, kissing Frank. Frank in turn couldn’t help but feel a certain thrill shoot up his spine. Kissing Gerard in the middle of Pete fucking Wentz’s house felt so perfectly dangerous. He pulled back still grinning, with just enough confidence to make it up the stairs. The hallway felt endless but Frank made it to Pete’s door, knocking quietly. No answer. He knocked again a little louder this time. Still no answer. Gerard finally stepped up and banged his fist on the door, the wood bouncing against the hits.

“What the _fuck_!” Pete’s muffled voice came from past the door and Gerard and Frank turned to look at one another before Frank leaned forward, hand pressed against the door frame as though he were bracing himself.

“Pete,” Frank called. “It’s...it’s uh, Frank.” Off to a fantastic start already. There was silence on the other side and then some shuffling of sheets before the door finally swung open to reveal Pete in all his hung over glory. Somehow his hair still managed to stay perfectly intact. That was a mystery.

Pete’s gaze was narrowed as he glared at Frank, his sight then flicking over to Gerard who loomed behind him. A smirk cocked on the corner of his mouth.

“What?” He sneered, seemingly delighted at the sight of the two of them. “Needed a bodyguard just to come talk to me.” Pete pushed the door open a little more before stepping forward and jabbing Gerard in the chest with his finger. Frank was caught right in the middle, already having flashbacks to the fight in the cafeteria. “Take a swing at me and I’ll take your fucking head off.” His tone like ice.

Instantly Gerard tensed behind him and Frank pushed back a little to create some distance. He felt like a lamb trying to stop a fight between two alpha wolves. “That’s not why we’re here.” Frank declared. “I came to...apologize.” He practically sighed out the last word feeling defeat fall heavy in his stomach.

All at once Frank wondered if he had made the right choice. It was such a rash decision based on a nightmare, adrenaline and very little sleep. Maybe he should have just chosen the path of a social pariah if it meant not having to humiliate himself in front of Gerard. He was fucked either way.  
  
“Prairie oyster.” Pete suddenly deadpanned.

“Wha-”

“Make me a prairie oyster and then we can get to your groveling act.” A thin smile and suddenly the door was being slammed in his face. Frank wasn’t even sure what to do and turned to look up at Gerard who simply shrugged.

“You know we can always just go back home.” Gerard pulled a cigarette out from his pack, placed the stick between his lips before producing a lighter from his pocket. Frank didn’t even bother to tell him it was probably rude to smoke in some else’s house. Gerard lit the cigarette, inhaling and blowing smoke towards the door. He flicked the lighter again. “And we could always leave him with a parting gift.”

Rolling his eyes Frank shoved him back down the hallway. “What you wanna burn his house down?”

Gerard shrugged again, all too casual. Frank ignored that.

“What the hell was he talking about? Prairie oyster?” Leave it to Pete to demand something outrageous without an explanation.

“Hangover cure.” Gerard replied, as he stabbed his cigarette out on the wall before sticking it behind his ear. It left a small dark, stain and Frank laughed. Gerard took the lead back to the kitchen. “Raw egg, Worcestershire sauce, hot sauce, salt and pepper.” He easily listed everything off as he began pulling open cabinet doors, searching for the ingredients. “My dad trained me pretty well in that department. Drunk bastard.”

“Oh.”

“You’re giving me that pathetic puppy look again, Frankie.” Gerard mused. Frank scowled and flipped him off.

Instead of standing by uselessly he decided to grab a carton of eggs from the fridge and crack one into an open cup. Frank swirled the glass around, gagging at the thought of slurping down a raw egg, let alone all the other ingredients mixed in. He looked up to see Gerard bending over the cabinets below the sink before standing, inspecting a bright blue bottle. “Intense rust build up. How 'bout this for a little wake up call?” He shook the bottle a bit, the contents sloshing around inside.

Frank cocked a brow. “Liquid drainer? Don’t be dick.” He replied. “That shit would kill him.”

Turning the bottle over, Gerard seemed to read over the back. “Thus ending his hangover.” He said, laughing as he poured the liquid into a mug, similar to the one Frank had the prairie oyster in. It was bright blue, almost a neon color.

A weird feeling Frank couldn’t quite place settled in the pit of his stomach. He looked at Gerard who seemed perfectly unphased. “He’d never drink that anyway.” Frank muttered as he added in the salt in pepper to his mug.  
  
“Aw, don’t be such a baby.” Gerard teased.

“Stop.” He didn't look up as he mixed in the other ingredients.

Gerard kept pressing. “Come on, Frankie. Live a little for once-”

“ _Stop it._ ” Frank snapped. Gerard's smirk immediately dropped.

“Hey,” he said softly, walking over to Frank and hands rubbing on his shoulders. “I’m just kidding.”

A sigh escaped Frank as he nodded, leaning into Gerard. Gerard who in turn tilted Frank’s chin up with his finger, stealing a kiss. Frank pressed in, unable to help the fact that he felt right at home here.

“Alright, alright.” Frank backed off and grabbed for the prairie oyster on the counter. “Let’s get this over with.” He muttered. Begging for Pete’s forgiveness wasn’t exactly something he was looking forward to but at the same time Frank felt like he didn’t have much of a choice.

“Frank-” Gerard called and he paused to look back at him.

“What?”

Gerard seemed to hesitate before shaking his head. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Frank laughed, a little confused. “Okay?” But he didn’t press it and instead turned to make his way back up the stairs and towards Pete’s room near the end of the hall. Frank prepared himself for what was to come and a tentatively knocked on the door.

“It’s open, dipshit.” Pete’s voice snarked from behind the walls. Frank only rolled his eyes, gave Gerard a tense smile and pushed the door open.

“Morning, Pete.” He greeted, a little cautiously. Frank took a few steps into the room. Pete was seated on the edge of his king size bed, shirtless and smirking. The room itself was bigger than the master bedroom in Frank’s house. The bed hardly made a dent in the space. Part of the room was taken up by a couch and entertainment system. Many nights were spent watching movies and drinking warm beer in front of the television. There was a desk off to the side that looked practically untouched. It’s not like Pete ever did his own homework. And in the middle of the room was a large glass coffee table, scattered magazines and books strewn across it.

A palace fit for a king.

“Let's not waste time on small talk, _Frankie_.” Pete stood, arms crossed. “I believe I was promised some begging for forgiveness.” His smile was all fangs.

Frank looked back at Gerard who remained stone faced, then back at Pete. “Listen, last night got a little crazy. I think we both said some things that-”

Pete cut him off with a raised hand. “Actually.” He tapped his chin with his index finger before pointing to his floor. “I think I’d prefer if you did this on your knees.” He eyes flicked up to Gerard, then back to Frank. “In front of your _boyfriend_ , here.”

The amount of restraint it took to keep himself from bolting out the door right then and there was award worthy. Not that anyone could see it. Color shot to his cheeks as Frank could only stare open mouthed at Pete.

“Pete, I’m really sor-”

“Did you think I was kidding?” Pete snapped back, his gaze narrowed, all edges. Frank breathed out a rattled sigh and glanced back at Gerard who only looked away, shaking his head and plucking the cigarette from behind his ear. Something to fidget with while Frank lost every little shred of dignity he had left. Balancing the cup in his hand, he slowly lowered himself to his knees.

The grin on Pete’s face was manic and Frank had a flash of his terrifying dream from the night before. “You’re pathetic.” Pete leaned in snatching the mug from Frank’s grasp. “And you’re still dead to me.” He retreated only to turn and quickly shoot back the prairie oyster. All Frank could do was hang his head in absolute defeat. He couldn’t even summon up enough energy to pick himself up and walk out the door.

This was it. He’d royaly, _no beyond royaly_ , fucked himself over. His plan could have been so simple. Either keep his head down until he made it to an ivy league school or ride out the last year and a half with the most popular clique in his stupid shitty town. But no. Frank couldn’t even manage one or the other. Instead he had to throw down the atomic bomb of all choices and ruin both options.

Frank looked up just in time to see Pete’s eyes practically bugging out of his head. Maybe he couldn’t handle that prairie oyster after all.

Pete coughed, grabbing at his throat. He took a few stuttered steps to the side, coughing again, gagging, choking.

_Fuck, was he choking?_

Frank stood up, Gerard right behind him. Pete was turning red in the face as he dropped the mug. It shattered in every direction, blue liquid spilling across the wood flooring. All the two boys could do is stare in shock as Pete turned towards them, still clawing at his throat. Blood pooled at the corner of his lips as he continued to cough and hack.

He grabbed onto Frank, his hands clutching desperately at the blazer that months ago Pete made him buy. He was trying to speak, spit and blood shooting past his lips. “C-c-cor-...corn…nuts.”

And then he was falling, the grip on Frank loosened. Neither of them tried to reach out to stop his descent as he fell into the glass coffee table. It shattered in what seemed to be a million pieces, the shards spraying like bullets in every direction. The noise was like a split second hurricane. Finally Frank moved, covering his face as Gerard pulled him backwards away from the wreck.

Pete laid in them middle of the mess, unmoving. And maybe Frank was imaging it but growing paler by the second.

Silence. Heavy, thick, silence.

“Holy shit.” Frank, breathed, his voice feeling too loud in his ears. His eyes darted from Pete’s lifeless body to the broken mug with cleaner dripping out of it as the realization of what happened hit him. “Holy shit _. Holy shit,_ I just killed my best friend.”

Gerard bent down over Pete but didn’t touch him. “And your worst enemy.”

“Same difference.” He snapped and then went over to where Gerard was. Frank wiped at his face, his sleeve covered with specks of blood. This wasn’t happening. This could not possibly be happening. Frank’s breathing hitched in his throat as he felt wave after wave of panic hit him all at once. He moved a few steps back, sitting himself on the edge of the bed. “They’re gonna have to send my SAT scores to San Quentin.” He muttered into his palms, elbows on his knees. He started to rock himself trying to get his breathing under control.

There was a shuffling noise and Frank looked up to see Gerard moving around the room. Poking at book cases, opening drawers and looking through his closet. “Don’t worry. I mean at least you got what you wanted.” He replied, but only seemed a little sincere.

“I wanted Pete Wentz out of my life, not fucking dead! The police are gonna think I did this. I’m screwed.” Frank stood from the bed, his whole body filling with dread and adrenaline. “Like half my class saw us fighting last night. Oh god- oh god.”

“Wait, wait- unless. Oh look at that.” Gerard pushed himself up from where he was digging under Pete’s bed. A book in hand. “He was reading Hemingway.” The smile on his face was small, knowing. He tossed the book next to Pete- next to Pete’s _body_.

“No, no. We can’t…”

“Yes.” Gerard said firmly. “You can fake his handwriting. Just like Ashley Barrett’s. Remember.” His tone was dark, as he stared Frank down and all Frank could do was nod. Gerard pulled a pen from the desk, flipped the book open to the empty cover page and handed them to Frank. “Just write something deep. _I’m not brave any more darling. I’m all broken. They’ve broken me._ ”

“Well, You know your Hemingway. And your suicide notes apparently.” Frank muttered. He took in one more shaky breath, questioning if he was really fucking doing this, and pressed the pen to the page.

_“The world built me into who I am. Who I was. We all start off the same way but life decides to shape and shift you into whatever it chooses. I was made into a mask, a husk of a human being. You assume because I had friends, a nice house, everything I wanted that I was happy. Content, even. But in everything I had nothing. Everyday was a battle to feel alive but everyday I felt more and more empty. This world has left me with a myriad of scars that will never be seen or ever truly be known. I have only left a shadow on this place.”_

Frank paused. “Oh no wait he missed “myriad” on his last vocab test he’d never use it.”

“So think of it as him using it as a badge for all his failures.” Gerard pressed. “We can’t start over now. Keep going. Uhm... _I wanted to leave so much more but in the end I die knowing the world never knew the real me.”_

“That’s actually pretty good.” Frank let out a nervous laugh. “You done this before?”

  
Gerard didn’t reply.  
  


“Okay...signed _Peter Wentz._ ” He dropped the book onto the desk, the pen marking the place where the note was written. “Done.”

The two boys stood in silence for what felt like a lot longer than they should have. Knowing his parents could be back at home from church at any moment. Both stared down at the body that lay in a halo of glass shards. Frank felt hollow in his chest. A certain numbness that scared him more than he’d like to admit. He wanted the reign of Pete fucking Wentz to end, sure. But not like this. Never like this.  
  
  
 **October 27th**

_It took less than twenty-four hours to absolutely ruin my fucking life._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It happened! He's finally dead! I'll be honest I was actually pretty sad to kill Pete off. I probably procrastinated killing him off way longer than I should have, whoops!
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated! And if you ever want to get in contact with me you can on here or my Tumblr saintwrites.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like to help support me you can do so here! <3 http://ko-fi.com/clandestine


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